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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223679">I'm Blue (daba dee daba die)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantom_ftnoise/pseuds/fantom_ftnoise'>fantom_ftnoise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abduction, Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Daddy Issues, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Draco Malfoy, Hallucinations, Healing, House Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Imprisonment, Intoxication, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Instability, Mind Healers (Harry Potter), NO sexual abuse (despite what the summary might suggest), POV Harry Potter, Voldemort Dies (Harry Potter), Vomiting, intimacy issues, self-inflicted food deprivation (non-disordered)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:21:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantom_ftnoise/pseuds/fantom_ftnoise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon divergence from the end of GOF.</p><p>After unexpectedly defeating Voldemort in the graveyard, Harry escapes the Death Eaters and gladly accepts the help of a man in the nearby Muggle village...only to spend the next fourteen years of his life locked in an underground bunker, playing house with a madman who calls himself Daddy.</p><p>Fourteen years later, Real Estate Agent Draco Malfoy is clueless as to why his mysterious new client, Haz Blue the Broomwright, is so difficult to place. The strange man employs stubborn optimism in the face of far too many unexplained issues. He's not claustrophobic, he simply has an appreciation for lots and lots of windows. He's not unsocialized, he's just earnest. And he doesn't have a problem with little Scorpius calling Draco 'Daddy,' he just can't stand it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>195</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I'm Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was inspired by Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (Netflix), but you don't need to be familiar with it at all to read this story.</p><p>Despite what the summary might suggest, there is NO sexual abuse in this story. The tags have been updated for the whole story. If you'd like me to add or clarify a tag, please let me know.</p><p>One note about the flashbacks:  The flashbacks to the bunker appear in a disjointed order with no real way to tell time. Welcome to Harry's hell. They've been defined as eras in this order: Danny, Denny, Lenny, Ben, and Fin. But again, the flashbacks are in no particular order.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>February 2009</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry perched on the edge of the hospital bed, swinging his legs back and forth. He was sporting jeans and a t-shirt with a picture of a tiger’s face. Behind him, voices from the other end of the St. Mungo’s wing drifted over and he caught a few words. <em> Trauma </em> was mentioned quite a few times. <em> Catatonic </em> and <em> shock </em> once or twice. <em> Feral </em> came out and then there were some shushing sounds before the Healers left the large private ward entirely.</p><p> </p><p>It was strange to eavesdrop on people again. It seemed as if, since the dawn of time itself, he’d only ever heard two voices: his own screams, insults, and pleas, matched against his captor’s wheedling attempts to break him.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Potter?” The Healer from earlier was here again, but he didn’t turn away from the window. The view was nothing special - just the side of a Muggle shopping center - but he thought the clouds might clear soon and he didn’t want to miss his first glimpse of sunshine in fourteen years. “Mr. Potter, you’ve visitors,” she went on in the same gentle voice, as if speaking to a frightened animal. Did they really think he was feral?</p><p> </p><p>He kept his gaze trained on the window as she brought the visitors around the bed. There was a gasp and someone swore.</p><p> </p><p>“Harry?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm…” he responded, turning his head slightly in the direction of the raspy voice but not taking his eyes off that window. Everything was blurry without his glasses.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Merlin, Harry…” His view was obscured by a tall man with dark hair. The man fell to his knees in front of him, clutching his hands, wrists, and arms, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was solid, all while chanting his name over and over again. Harry felt a spike of unease in the pit of nothingness inside him; he pulled his arms back and scowled down at the man.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t.” His voice was cold and hard, stubbornly unyielding in the simpering face of this shattered man who, wonder of wonders, actually conceded. He pulled his hands away and left them floating in the air between them, fluttering anxiously. Harry closed one eye and squinted with the other, taking in a face he once knew. “Sirius?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my fuck!” Sirius croaked, crossing his forearms against his pale, scruffy face, and wailing with abandon. The swear jarred Harry for a moment, making him forget about his window. “Oh my fuck, Remus, oh my fuck! Oh my fuck!”</p><p> </p><p>“Remus?” Harry squinted at the thin figure standing off to the side. Sirius was still blubbering into his own arms, careful not to touch him. Harry felt a tad guilty about that and wondered if the Healer would go and tell her gossipy coworkers that he had snapped at his godfather. Wait… “Sirius! Sirius, you have to go! Now!” he whispered, lurching forward to seize him by the shoulders. Sirius froze mid-sob and peeked through his arms at him with watery grey eyes, not even breathing. Useless mutt! Harry turned to Remus. “Get him out of here before he gets caught!” Harry hissed.</p><p> </p><p>“Harry - “</p><p> </p><p>“No, son, it’s not - “</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t!” Harry pushed Sirius away on instinct, his stomach clenching as if he’d been punched. His godfather wasn’t easy to push over but he toppled backwards onto his arse anyway, bewildered and hurt. Harry was sorry for it, but also he wasn’t, so much. “Don’t…”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t what, Harry?” Remus asked.</p><p> </p><p>“D-don’t, just don’t…”</p><p> </p><p>The Healer started to leave, muttering, “I’ll give you three some privacy…”</p><p> </p><p>“DON’T!” Harry stood, whirling around and reaching towards the Healer as if he could stop her by simply flapping his hand about. It seemed to work, but maybe she’d just listened to him. He was still getting used to people doing that.</p><p> </p><p>The ward was painfully silent now. All he wanted for his first day of freedom was to watch his window in peace, and now he was in a stand-off. Remus stepped forward, hands clasped in front of him in that naturally professorial way he had.</p><p> </p><p>“She won’t turn Sirius in,” he explained, irritatingly soothing. “He’s safe. Just like you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know I’m safe, why does everyone keep telling me that?” he spat. Still kneeling on the floor at his feet, Sirius was watching him with wide, reverent eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” Sirius flinched and Harry felt like a git. “I didn’t - I’m...sorry,” he offered, not knowing what to say. He seemed to have lost his words...or at least all the words he hadn’t used in the past fourteen years.</p><p> </p><p>Remus helped Sirius to his feet and there they stood together, shoulder to shoulder at the end of the bed, while Harry was alone next to the side-table. The Healer had escaped at some point. Harry chose to take Remus at his word and trust that she wasn’t fetching the authorities to cart Sirius off to Azkaban.</p><p> </p><p>“So…” he said, shuffling his feet. “Sirius. And…”</p><p> </p><p>“Remus.”</p><p> </p><p>“I knew that, I just - “ he broke off and waved his hand vaguely in explanation. He was twenty-eight now, apparently. It would be weird to call him Professor Lupin. “Good to see you. Figuratively speaking,” he added, gesturing to his bare face. He regretted breaking his glasses now, but he stood by the point he’d made in doing it.</p><p> </p><p>There was an awkward silence again. Funnily enough, he hadn’t gotten used to these, despite all the practice. Maybe he should mention that, it could be funny - actually no, it might make things worse.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re exactly the same,” Sirius blurted in a raspy voice. Harry hummed in answer; he certainly didn’t feel the same but he’d yet to see a mirror. “Exactly...exactly the same…”</p><p> </p><p>“He gave me potions to stunt my growth.” There, that shut him up. Sirius was dangerously close to devolving into another monotone chant; Harry just couldn’t take it, not when he was still waiting for the sun to come out from behind those stupid clouds. “Been stuck in puberty for over half my life now.” He forced a laugh. It sounded as hollow as it felt.</p><p> </p><p>“The Healers will get you back on track,” offered Remus, and Harry nodded. They’d explained his recovery plan and he’d listened to every word, despite their belief that he was still in shock. It was simply that he’d had enough of the same two voices and wanted to hear someone else speak for once.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re coming home, Harry,” Sirius said, and Harry nodded again but didn’t know what the heck he meant. Hogwarts? The Burrow? Surely not the Dursleys; he didn't think he could stand a new set of bars over his old bedroom window.</p><p> </p><p>“Lupin Cottage.”</p><p> </p><p>“We agreed it’s Blupin Fr - “</p><p> </p><p>“Not now, Sirius - “</p><p> </p><p>“Has it got windows?” he asked, and though he couldn’t see it on their blurry faces, he could still hear the pity in the answer:</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Harry...plenty of windows.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p><strike> Lupin Cottage </strike> Blupin Frottage<br/>
#9 Flint Ct<br/>
2 bed, 2 bath<br/>
1000 sq ft Muggle, 2300 sq ft Actual</p><p>This charming antique cottage has been magically expanded to accommodate pets and creatures of a larger variety. Reinforced doors and shutters for added security. The spacious kitchen is supplied with an ice box full of takeout containers and a rarely used breakfast nook. The office serves as a small library in addition to the built-in shelves in the sitting room. A shed, added in 2002, for the aspiring Muggle mechanic. Conveniently located on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The Forbidden Forest borders the massive back garden with picturesque mountains in the distance.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Present Day: August 2009, Six Months Later</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Life at Blupin Frottage was a decided improvement over his last situation. Remus taught at Hogwarts during the year, popping over each day after classes, and Sirius practically ran Zonko’s by himself. The shed had been converted from its original purpose - motorcycle repair - into a broommaking studio. Harry was working on his fourth broom, which happened to be his first paid commission. All in all, he had no complaints.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything alright?” Remus peered at him over his tea, looking as comfortable as he ever did at the little table in the breakfast nook - which was to say, not at all. Harry was the one who insisted they use it. If he sat with his back to the rest of the house, it was almost like being outside. The alcove was warm with plenty of light and a great view of the mountains. Somewhere between the wild back garden and the distant treeline of the Forbidden Forest sat an old, abandoned silo he had yet to explore. Perhaps he would make the trip across the field today.</p><p> </p><p>“Yep,” he confirmed around a bite of toast.</p><p> </p><p>Remus hummed and returned to that morning’s paper, though his eyes didn’t track across the page because he was just using it as a prop. Harry stopped chewing and waited. The toast was turning soggy in his mouth but he couldn’t possibly swallow until Remus said whatever he had to say.</p><p> </p><p>“Your potions seem to be working well,” he observed. Six months on growth potions had fast-tracked the rest of his puberty, though he was still quite short. Sirius had quickly learned not to tease. “How much longer?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry finally swallowed and took a sip of tea to wash it down. “One more round.” He'd been working on his facial hair. It was little more than itchy scruff, but he was deliriously proud of it already. He looked like a <em>man</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll finish just after the start of school, then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep.” Did he dare take another bite? He felt the tension linger in the air, telling him that Remus had more to say, so he waited it out, tracing the rim of his Holyhead Harpies mug idly.</p><p> </p><p>“I was wondering…” There it was. Harry stared down at his toast longingly. <em> Soon </em>, he promised it. “Rolanda and Pomona are taking a year or two off for their little one. Neville Longbottom is coming in to replace Pomona, but Rolanda is still looking for a replacement. Are you interested?”</p><p> </p><p>“In her job?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s temporary but could turn permanent. She’s considering retirement.” Remus kept his voice carefully light as he waved his wand to pour fresh tea for them both. Harry heard a creak from upstairs; Sirius would join them soon. He stood and skirted around the table, fetching a third mug to buy some time.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got a job.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes…” </p><p> </p><p>Skull-and-crossbones mug in hand, Harry quietly closed the cupboard and watched the back of Remus’s head. Though the shed wasn’t visible from here, he was looking outside now instead of pretending to read his paper, no doubt thinking of Harry’s workspace. Reluctantly, Harry returned to the table, setting down Sirius’s mug and pouring the tea.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not lonely while you two are at work, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Harry offered, hoping Sirius would come down soon and change the subject. “I’ve already got more comp--”</p><p> </p><p>“--company than you ever dreamed you’d have,” Remus finished for him. They’d had this conversation before.</p><p> </p><p>“Right.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence reigned and Harry sipped his tea, longing for his toast, for his godfather, for a pickup game of Quidditch with Ron, Ginny, Charlie, and the twins.</p><p> </p><p>“I think it would be good for you to begin socializing on a larger scale,” Remus broached delicately. Harry rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide it. He heard Sirius finally descend the stairs behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not lonely,” he insisted. “I’ve got you both, and Hermione and the Weasleys, and - “</p><p> </p><p>“The same small circle for six months now, don’t you think it’s time to spread your wings, so to speak?” His voice was light and chipper, fantastically bland, and Harry almost wished for silence again.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been thinking of getting an owl,” Harry lied, starting to feel desperate. He liked his life now. No complaints. None. Everything was fine the way it was, why should it have to change? Why should he have to endure the stares and whispers to put Remus at ease over an imagined issue? “I could get a penpal.”</p><p> </p><p>“A what?” Sirius grunted miserably as he set upon his tea like a starving beast. His long hair was in disarray, eyes puffy with sleep, kimono-style robe barely tied and revealing far too much. Harry’s face went hot and he kept his eyes firmly fixed on his toast.</p><p> </p><p>“Quill acquaintance,” Remus translated automatically. Harry blinked. He would be sticking with penpals, if he ever went about forging that ridiculous plan. Hedwig was one old friend he hadn't been reunited with, having disappeared shortly after he did...he wondered what had happened to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s writing you?” Sirius mumbled into his mug.</p><p> </p><p>“No one.”</p><p> </p><p>“I told him about Rolanda’s position opening up - “</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, not this again…”</p><p> </p><p>Harry frowned. “What d’you mean ‘again’?”</p><p> </p><p>Remus adjusted himself in the rickety old chair. “We’ve discussed - “</p><p> </p><p>“You’re talking about me like I’m some sad, lonely little latchkey kid who can’t make friends - “</p><p> </p><p>“ - helping you get accustomed to the world again, in a way that doesn’t cause undue stress - “</p><p> </p><p>“He’s happy here, Remus, you don’t need to keep an eye on him at Hogwarts, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that what this is about, you don’t trust me home alone during the day?” Harry whirled on Remus, who abandoned the paper on the table and put his hands up in a placating way.</p><p> </p><p>“The Healers said a gradual and <em> steady </em> reintroduction is best.” Harry and Sirius fell quiet as Remus pressed on. “We need to keep pushing the limits here so you’re not trading one prison for another.”</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t a prison,” Harry contended, gesturing to the back garden.</p><p> </p><p>“Even Azkaban has windows, Haz,” said Sirius. The pet name struck a chord in his chest, like a note from a phoenix song, but he refused to be swayed.</p><p> </p><p>“Whose side are you on?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yours, you berk, but that doesn’t mean Remus is wrong.” He had that pitying look on his face again, the hypocrite. Both of them were imprisoned for over a decade and Sirius had the gall to <em>pity</em> <em>him? </em></p><p> </p><p>Harry stood abruptly, abandoning his tea and toast on the table.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going out - you see, I couldn’t do that if this were a prison!” He knew he was overreacting but it was happening anyway. </p><p> </p><p>He stormed upstairs to get dressed and caught his reflection in the hallway mirror. <em> Sharp specs, scout! </em>the mirror crowed for the umpteenth time, but for once it failed to elicit a smile. His new glasses were wirey, square-ish, and the lenses tinted a cobalt blue in the sun. The Healers were clear that he needed to protect his eyes after so many years in the dark. He picked them out in an optics shop during his first week “home,” on a rare trip to the nearest Muggle town. Now, even when they tinted, his vision was always colored by the sky on his first cloudless day above ground.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry lies on his back on the floor, palms down, eyes up. He can't get his stomach muscles to stop shivering, but he won't go back to the same stupid furniture right now. But even the coolness of the smooth concrete beneath him is nothing new, not really. Perhaps new since yesterday, but nothing about his life is ever <em> really </em> new.</p><p> </p><p>These are the Days of Lenny. Without windows but with just enough routine, Harry estimates it has been several years in this little underground room. Probably not ten, though it feels like it. It's impossible to be sure of time, so he defines it by whatever he's calling his captor nowadays.</p><p> </p><p>"Daddy, remember? I'm your daddy," the man always insists. And Harry insists on mishearing him every time.</p><p> </p><p>"Piss off, Danny," at first.</p><p> </p><p>"Daddy doesn't like that language, son. You are <em> not </em> to use that language."</p><p> </p><p>Then for a while it was, "Denny, I want to go to school."</p><p> </p><p>"Adam, stop this now. You have your lessons here, where it's safe."</p><p> </p><p>Now it is, "Got it, Lenny."</p><p> </p><p>And so the Days of Lenny pass much like the Denny Days before, and the Danny Days of old, when this prison was fresh and new. When the concrete wasn't worn smooth with his pacing. When the cinder-block walls were still unscathed, before he scratched them all to hell.</p><p> </p><p>"What have you done to your poor fingers, son?" Denny had said back then, tending to his bloody nails with nauseating care before retrieving a pair of clippers. That was the last time Harry had nails long enough to scratch anything.</p><p> </p><p>Harry's muscles jump and quiver in protest of the cold floor, but, as with the scratches on the walls, he welcomes any fresh experience, even the painful. He stares at a crack in the ceiling, wondering if it's grown, wondering if there's a fault line nearby, wondering if one day the ceiling will crumble down on top of him. He finds he doesn't even mind the thought, as long as he catches a glimpse of the sky before he's crushed.</p><p> </p><p>Even a tomb can't be as stale as the air in this room.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Today the sky was both overcast and blindingly bright with the promise of a storm in the far distance. Harry hurried from the Leaky Cauldron, adjusting his pageboy cap and wishing there was a less conspicuous way to floo out of Hogsmeade. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the clothes Sirius and Remus had collected for him over the months: a strange blend of the two men’s tastes. The distressed burgundy trousers, cream button-down, and thin leather waistcoat felt too dressy when all he did was work in a shed, play Quidditch, and lounge about the house. Then again, anything was better than the childish clothes he had been forced to wear before.</p><p>
  
</p><p>[art by <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/zigster-ao3/630056886787506176">zigster-ao3</a>]</p><p> </p><p>Even after months of (freely) wandering the city, he would never take for granted the feeling of his shoes against uneven, unpredictable pavement instead of the same smooth concrete floor. Several hours went by and he found himself in Ravenscourt Park, dragging his feet through the grass and reveling in the scent of nature in the middle of a city.</p><p> </p><p>Across the way stood a long row of exceedingly nice houses - not quite manors, but large and stately at any rate. As he approached the far border of the park, he rested on a bench, leaning his back against the armrest and kicking his legs up onto the length of the seat. He crooked an arm over the back of the bench and turned to watch an older couple leave a home with an Open House sign mounted in the front garden. He wondered what the great big house was like inside. Maybe he should take the tour… </p><p> </p><p>“WAAAH-OOF!” A figure fell out of the tall oak tree near his bench and he rocketed to his feet, hurrying over to a little boy moaning in the grass.</p><p> </p><p>“You alright?” He squatted down but felt unbearably close to the boy, like he was crowding him, and stood back up, shuffling his feet awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“N-no!” the boy whimpered, his face still pressed into the grass.</p><p> </p><p>“Erm…” Harry dithered for a moment then knelt in the grass. He reached out, his hand hovering in uncertainty above the boy’s shoulder. “What hurts?”</p><p> </p><p>“LEG!” he wailed. Harry reared back, grimacing.</p><p> </p><p>“Which leg?” He was out of his element here. He’d never dealt with children before...he estimated this one at about, what, seven years old? Nine? Maybe six? He was sobbing into the grass, tears and dirt all over his bright pink face.</p><p> </p><p>“This one!” he cried without indicating right or left. Harry took a guess and placed his hand gently on the right leg, earning a fresh wave of wails. He snatched his hand back and looked around for help, but no one was near.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s your, er...person?”</p><p> </p><p>“Daddy!” the boy whined. Harry flinched.</p><p> </p><p>"Right, where's your - where is he?"</p><p> </p><p>"Showin' house," he blubbered into the ground, his cheek pressing sharply against an exposed root of the tree. Harry frowned, not understanding, then his head snapped up at the open house across the street.</p><p> </p><p>"Er, shall I fetch him here, or...?" It didn't feel right to leave a child crying in the dirt but he wasn't about to - </p><p> </p><p>"Carry me!" he demanded, and Harry found himself complying. He was too big to carry in his arms, but with some fumbling, he got the boy settled on his back with his legs gripping his waist and his arms wrapped uncomfortably around his neck.</p><p> </p><p>The crying subsided into sniffles and Harry smirked when the boy used his collar as a handkerchief, smearing snot and tears into it. Better than crying and attracting all sorts of strange stares from passersby, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>"What's your name?" he asked, trying to keep things light.</p><p> </p><p>"Scorpius."</p><p> </p><p>Harry balked - who in their right mind named a child Scorpius?</p><p> </p><p>"Your parents fond of scorpions then?" he huffed, waiting for the crosswalk signal to change.</p><p> </p><p>"Whut?" was the blank reply.</p><p> </p><p>"Erm...nevermind." The signal changed and Harry gestured rudely at a driver who stopped right in the path, opting to walk behind his car rather than step into the intersection. "How old are you, Scorpius?"</p><p> </p><p>"Seven."</p><p> </p><p>"Do you like school?" he asked, hefting him up a little higher.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't go to school."</p><p> </p><p>"What?!" Harry stumbled slightly on the curb as he tried to look over his shoulder. "Why not? You need to - to learn. You need an education."</p><p> </p><p>"I've lessons at home," Scorpius explained like it was obvious. The answer set his teeth on edge.</p><p> </p><p>"But, don't you want to go to school with other people? Kids your age?"</p><p> </p><p>"Daddy says I'm not old enough yet." The boy's voice was free of tears now, simple and straightforward. It seemed almost...dead. Harry very much wanted to meet the father who kept his child at home when he should be socializing, making friends, building a life. He had a few things to say to the man.</p><p> </p><p>They arrived at the house and Harry marched - as well as he could with Scorpius clinging to his back - right up to the door, rapping sharply with his knuckles. They waited.</p><p> </p><p>"It's open," Scorpius said dully. Harry adjusted his grip again.</p><p> </p><p>"We can't just - "</p><p> </p><p>"It's'n open house," he insisted, and Harry wondered how a something-year-old was managing to talk over him. "You just, go inside."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not breaking into someone's home! I'll just knock again," he sighed, doing just that. Voices and footsteps filtered faintly through the door, but none seemed to approach. Well, he wasn't going to give in now, he had to set an example for the youth on his back - who seemed to be getting heavier and heavier with each passing second.</p><p> </p><p>"Merlin's beard - " the little boy muttered under his breath, reaching with his entire body over Harry's shoulder to grip the door handle. Harry reared back as Scorpius pushed the door open, upending his precarious balance and sending the child toppling forward with a squeal.</p><p> </p><p>He caught the little bugger before he hit the ground - well, before his face hit the ground, at any rate - and set him upright on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>"DADDY, I FELL!" Scorpius took off into the house, his trainers slapping on the pristine, shining hardwood floor, and left Harry at the door staring back at the small crowd of roaming couples.</p><p> </p><p>"Er...hello," he offered with a little wave. "Looking for his, erm...person." He gestured in Scorpius's direction, though he was long gone. Should he go after him? He had just let an unsupervised child loose in a posh home, and until they found his...person, Harry would have to mind him, right? "Scorpius?!" he called, shoving through a couple blocking the hall.</p><p> </p><p>"You'll have to excuse me," a refined voice came from the parlor to the left. Harry quickly rounded the corner into the kitchen, following the sounds of Scorpius's stomping, and ran into a tall, thin man in a crisp checkered shirt with a thin tie.</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry!" he said, fixing his hat firmly in place by habit, then peered up through his glasses at the man. "Oh, bugger--erm, butter," he corrected quickly. Draco Malfoy looked as Malfoy-ish as ever and Harry could think of no one else who would subject an innocent child to such a name as Scorpius.</p><p> </p><p>"Butter?" Malfoy repeated blankly, reaching out a hand and pulling Scorpius to his side.</p><p> </p><p>"Butter is good," Harry said. He was staring openly. Two men in the kitchen snorted in unison.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh my god..." one of them whispered gleefully, turning away from the disaster that was Harry finding his old nemesis under a twinkling electric chandelier that was far too much for the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy stared. “Indeed…” He clearly thought Harry was a nutter. He turned to his son, wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek. "Another hour I'm afraid, Scorpius."</p><p> </p><p>"Daddy, I fell," he announced loudly to clear things up.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you injured?" Malfoy knelt down, examining the boy's face and limbs, and Harry wondered if he should just...back away, leave, escape before he had to make <em> conversation</em>. He met the eye of one of the snickering men, who winked and lifted a glass of something bubbly as if in toast.</p><p> </p><p>"My leg," Scorpius informed him calmly.</p><p> </p><p>"Which one?"</p><p> </p><p>"Left," he answered.</p><p> </p><p>"You said it was your right," Harry cut in with a frown.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh yes, right. My right leg is broken, Daddy." Malfoy nodded seriously and tapped his little khaki trousers at various points, earning a dramatic hiss from Scorpius.</p><p> </p><p>Harry watched in detached fascination as Malfoy scooped some ice from the Muggle freeze box into a little plastic bag before applying it gently to a seemingly random spot on his son’s leg. The men in the corner of the kitchen were giving him significant looks, but he had no idea what they were signifying. He shrugged at them and they went back to giggling at each other.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think you can manage for another hour, Scorpius?” Malfoy asked quietly as he hefted him onto a tall stool at the breakfast bar. Harry shuffled his feet, thoroughly regretting not taking his leave earlier. He couldn’t leave now, could he? Then it would be obvious that he should’ve left already. </p><p> </p><p>“I s’pose so,” Scorpius muttered bravely. “Could we go for ice cream then?” Harry smirked. Malfoy was getting played.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.” He gestured broadly around the kitchen. “Think you can handle this room alone?”</p><p> </p><p>Scorpius straightened in his seat and recited: “This kitchen comes with stainless steel appliances, and check out that gorgeous backsplash!” Malfoy patted his blond head and then turned to Harry, who failed to hide his glee in time.</p><p> </p><p>“Draco Malfoy, I’m the real estate agent for this property,” he said rather formally. He stuck out his hand, and with a jolt, Harry realized he hadn’t been recognized. With a giddy grin taking over his face, he shook Malfoy’s hand. It was ridiculously soft.</p><p> </p><p>“Haz,” he said. How long was too long for shaking hands? He quickly and unceremoniously dropped Malfoy’s very soft hand as he scrambled for a last name. “Er, Haz Blue.” <em> Black is a name, why not Blue? </em> he told the spluttering voice in his head.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you as interesting as your name?" Malfoy quipped with an easy smile, eyes shifting somewhere over Harry's shoulder at his small but bustling crowd of prospective homebuyers before returning to him.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes - er, what? I mean, I'm - I'm looking for a house," Harry stammered out without even knowing it was true until he said it.</p><p> </p><p>"That is usually why one stops by an Open House," Malfoy drawled, "when they're not returning errant children, that is. Thank you, by the way."</p><p> </p><p>"Yep," was all he could think to say. He was vaguely aware of another snort of laughter at his expense from the Muggle men across the room.</p><p> </p><p>"And does this place strike your fancy, Haz Blue?"</p><p> </p><p>His stomach did a big fluttering flip, ten times more powerful than when Sirius had first called him Haz. Haz...not Adam, or Addy, or 'Adam Marcus Schmidt!' when he was in trouble. Haz was his very own, and it felt even truer than 'Harry' after years of screaming that was his name.</p><p> </p><p>"Erm..." Harry's eyes darted up at the too-much chandelier over their heads and Malfoy smirked, giving him a conspiratorial wink and nod.</p><p> </p><p>"Right. Here's my card," he slipped a business card into his hands and Harry fiddled with the corners.</p><p> </p><p>"I, er… I don't have a phone," Harry admitted. The eavesdropping Muggles were briefly overcome by incredulity and Harry sent them an annoyed glare.</p><p> </p><p>"I work in a variety of markets," Malfoy said pointedly, as if it meant something. Harry nodded dumbly. Malfoy looked heavenward as if praying for patience before turning his back on the Muggles. With an odd little flourish, he used his pinky-finger to tap the card in Harry's hand twice. Harry's eyes widened with understanding, and he nodded again. He pocketed the seemingly non-magical card for now, until he could take his wand to it. </p><p> </p><p>There was a long silence and the room felt tense. Harry realized with a jolt that he had no idea how to end a conversation like this, with a stranger, or rather someone who was meant to be a stranger. But he didn't want to be found out for the unsocialized freak he was.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay, bye!" he blurted unceremoniously, turning heel and darting away. He heard the Muggles' laughter as he hurried outside. The lack of privacy in that kitchen should've filled him with a familiar rage, but he was far too full of new, fresh feelings to care.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It's Lenny who resorts to tying him down to the bed to keep him from "ruining" himself. The second time he's caught with the evidence in his pants, he vows never to have to endure this lesson a third time. He's not even allowed up to relieve himself - Lenny changes his nappies and spoon-feeds him his meals and by the time he's trusted again, he has half a mind to sleep standing up rather than ever return to a horizontal position. </p><p> </p><p>He settles for shivering on the floor instead of returning to the bed, and remains there for much of the remaining Lenny Days. But when Lenny starts carding his fingers through his hair while he tries to sleep (as if such a thing could be comforting!), Harry hides under the bed instead. Lenny can't reach him here. He can't see him either, but still Harry keeps his hands chaste. Lenny has a way of knowing Harry's misdeeds even when he isn't around to watch.</p><p> </p><p>The Days of Lenny are filled with cold skin and aching bones, and the only privacy to be found is when he crams himself under the bed, feigning sleep.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A pounding on the door startled Harry and he slipped, only just managing to regain his footing under the spray of the shower.</p><p> </p><p>"YOU KEEP WANKING IN THERE YOU'RE LIKE TO PULL IT OFF!" Sirius sounded halfway between a leer and a bark of laughter. </p><p> </p><p>Ears ringing, Harry smashed the tap closed so hard he felt his hand bruise. He heard his godfather's chuckling retreat down the hall and figured he was safe, figured Sirius wouldn't go so far as to punish him anyway, but still he felt sick. Unclean, even after the shower, even though he hadn't actually done <em> that </em>. He panted unevenly, willing his heart to calm and his stomach to settle, before stepping out of the shower and covering up quickly with a big, fluffy towel.</p><p> </p><p>Dressed, hair sopping wet, Harry barreled downstairs to be seen doing anything at all that wasn't <em> that </em>. He wouldn't bring it up, but even Sirius had to know that if he had been abusing himself in the shower, he probably wouldn't be down here five minutes later. Right?</p><p> </p><p>"Harry?" Remus asked, bewildered by his entrance.</p><p> </p><p>"I wasn't!" Harry wheezed. Pickles, it was hard to breathe, like the steam of the shower hadn't quite left his lungs. Remus blinked, then nodded slowly.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh. Alright then..."</p><p> </p><p>Harry's hair continued to drip in the middle of the sitting room while Remus stirred a potion in the kitchen and Sirius puttered around upstairs, thinking Harry was a deviant.</p><p> </p><p>"What are you up to today, Harry?"</p><p> </p><p>"Realtors," he answered. The word felt foreign on his lips and it occurred to him that he'd probably never said it out loud before. Remus paused minutely in his stirring before continuing with an air of nonchalance.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh?"</p><p> </p><p>"I met one yesterday," he explained, blunt as ever. He seemed to have forgotten how to soften his words. "I'm twenty-eight. Twenty-<em> nine </em>. Everyone else has their own place."</p><p> </p><p>A steady thumping sound started on the floor above, in time with Sirius's favorite Muggle record. As fun as it seemed to dance around with his godfather without a care in the world, experience told him that Sirius would likely be in his skivvies right now. </p><p> </p><p>Remus lay the stirring spoon to the side of the cauldron and approached Harry, gesturing at the sofa. Harry blinked at the sofa, then at the fireplace, then back at the sofa. It seemed his trip to the magical branch of M &amp; P Realty would have to wait. With a sigh, Harry threw himself down on the leather sofa. Remus joined him with decidedly less melodrama.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you unhappy here, Harry?"</p><p> </p><p>"No," he answered readily. Of course he wasn't. But he <em> was </em> an adult, and he would act like one. This wasn't pretend, it wasn't a fantasy, it was <em> real </em> and Harry was itching to get started. His eyes darted to the fireplace again.</p><p> </p><p>"Have I made you, ah...uncomfortable?" Harry frowned at the man, confused. "Discussing Rolanda's position, I mean. If it's really something you don't want to do, of course you - I only - I suppose I am pushing you, but I never meant - "</p><p> </p><p>Harry interrupted before Remus could wind himself up even more.</p><p> </p><p>"No," then, opting for honesty, "well, yes, but I'm not running away. I just want to look at some houses." He was an adult, this was not a prison, he was allowed to do as he pleased.</p><p> </p><p>"To move out of ours."</p><p> </p><p>"...yes."</p><p> </p><p>Remus floundered as if Harry had just proved his point and Harry stared back at him, open and honest. For once, he had nothing to hide, though it felt like a stone was settling in his stomach the longer Remus sat there with his mouth hanging open.</p><p> </p><p>With monumental effort, Harry did not let himself ask, <em> Is that okay? </em>His Mind Healer had told him that another person's disapproval was not his responsibility. There was nothing for him to fix here, nothing he could do to fix it unless he backed down to make Remus happy.</p><p> </p><p>"If that's all..." Harry braced his hands on the cushion beneath him and, at Remus's nod of dismissal, pushed himself up and made for the floo.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the Danny Days of Old, Harry is still finding his bearings. It doesn't seem so long ago that Voldemort was killed in the graveyard after the Third Task. When he closes his eyes, he still sees Cedric's lifeless eyes, still sees echoes of his parents blossoming out of Voldemort's wand. He still hears the awful squelching, tearing sound as his panicked <em> Bombarda! </em> hits Voldemort square in the chest, ripping apart his newly formed body just seconds after the connection between their wands was broken.</p><p> </p><p>Like it was yesterday, and it very well might have been, he remembers darting through the ring of dumbfounded Death Eaters, stumbling down the hill and into a Muggle village. He remembers hiding until dawn, hunched over behind a skip in his blood-soaked tournament uniform, ankle throbbing, drying sweat mixed with the grime on his skin like paste. And just as the sun came up, Danny found him. Offered him help, a clean towel, a phone call. Stole him away. </p><p> </p><p>He hasn't seen the sun since, but it hasn't been very long. He still has hope. He just needs to survive this lunatic long enough to escape.</p><p> </p><p>He's not allowed knives with his food. Danny cuts his meat into small bites.</p><p> </p><p>He's not trusted to brush his teeth properly after his first "tantrum." Danny wields the toothbrush for him, jarring his jaw with the force of it.</p><p> </p><p>He's wearing these childish clothes and wonders, but has learned not to ask, where they came from. Who they came from. The underground bunker smells like concrete and dust, not old sweat or - or blood. But perhaps there <em> had </em> been another kid before him. He tries not to speculate.</p><p> </p><p>He's deduced that Danny is a squib or maybe has sworn off the use of his wand. He gave him a potion right off, when Harry was still twitching with the pain of the Cruciatus, but he has yet to see a wand, much less his own.</p><p> </p><p>No matter. Harry will get out. There's only two locked doors and a steep set of stairs between him and freedom, after all. He'll learn this new game and play by the rules when he must, just long enough to find his way to the surface again.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry opened the door of the Leaky and then promptly closed it again, relishing the thrill of casting his own <em> Impervius </em> spell at his sneakers, before venturing out into Muggle London.</p><p> </p><p>Rain was pouring down and Harry was without an umbrella, but felt positively giddy as his clothes went soggy. He stamped in one puddle, then another, then nearly drowned in a deceptive lake on the corner. He laughed in the face of a peeved looking woman who gave him and his antics a wide berth. M &amp; P Realty was just two blocks down from the Leaky and in that short distance, Harry managed to thoroughly soak himself in the rain. </p><p> </p><p>It was brilliant. </p><p> </p><p>Malfoy's business card had revealed, after some prodding with his wand, how to access the magical side of the building. He felt a little silly holding the doorknob while whispering the password, but found himself - shoes dry, clothes dripping - in the magical lobby of a small set of offices. The reception desk was manned - or womanned? - by a handsome - or pretty - person whose gender Harry couldn't quite place. The nameplate read Terry, which wasn't particularly helpful.</p><p> </p><p>"Welcome to… Malfoy and Parkinson Realty," the wix said, their nose wrinkling in distaste at the mess Harry had tracked in. He figured his Mind Healer wouldn't back him up here, but he decided to ignore the flash of regret anyway. <em> It's only a bit of water, Terry, pull yourself together. </em> "Do you have an appointment?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted. "Haz Blue! Pleased you could make it." Malfoy stalked over, his boots clicking sharply on the floor. He looked very important in his business casual dress, and very...good-postured. That surely accounted for the nice shape his torso made, shoulders firm and straight over his narrow hips. Harry's mouth was still open and he looked between Terry and Malfoy, unsure of whom to address.</p><p> </p><p>"Him," he finally said, looking at Terry while pointing at Malfoy. Terry raised their perfect brows and Malfoy furrowed his. With the receptionist's question answered, Harry turned to Malfoy. "I want a house. Er, well, it doesn't have to be a house, I reckon, but a home anyway." As soon as he said it, however, he knew he detested the idea of a flat in a building shared with strangers. "A house," he amended, speaking over Malfoy's reply.</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy paused, perhaps waiting to see if Harry was truly done talking, then said rather stiffly, "Certainly. Come on back to my office and we'll get started." He opened his arm in a gesture before retreating back down the hallway, and Harry followed.</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy's office was as sleek and neat as he was, but with a distinct magical flair that delighted Harry. He hadn't much experience with the working magical world. Remus's office at Hogwarts and the backroom of Zonko's - Sirius's domain - were about the limit of it. He'd never seen Ron and Hermione's Auror offices and wondered if they were as whimsical as this one.</p><p> </p><p>The large window behind the desk was charmed to show a sunny field of white peacocks, because Draco Malfoy was apparently still every bit the posh wanker. Pretty glowing orbs of light floated over their heads, and the arched ceiling was surely a product of magic, seeing as the outside of the building was far too stout to allow it. The dark hardwood floor matched the dark beams of the arches, but the cream-colored walls, rug, and ceiling kept the room feeling bright, clean, and open.</p><p> </p><p>Harry dropped into a chair that was cushier than it looked and caught Malfoy's wince as the leather creaked and squeaked with water. He offered a half-smile, half-smirk in answer and Malfoy took his own seat, pulling a notepad and quill close.</p><p> </p><p>"What are you looking for in a home, Mr. Blue?"</p><p> </p><p>"Haz," Harry corrected. He loved hearing 'Haz.'</p><p> </p><p>"Haz," Malfoy agreed after a moment of hesitation, then waited. It took a long moment before Harry realized he still needed an answer.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh! Er, you know, somewhere to live. On my own."</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy clicked his tongue, but didn't say anything. Harry suddenly got the feeling that he was being looked at like he was a madman who shouldn't live unsupervised.</p><p> </p><p>"I live with, er - my uncles right now. But I really should find my own place. I've started a little business, see, and I've been using the shed out back, but it's bl--blingin' hot," he caught himself before the swear could come out, but then immediately wanted to retract the other word and use <em> bloody </em> instead, like a proper man.</p><p> </p><p>"A home that doubles as a shop, then," Malfoy said, noting it with the overly large quill. Harry nodded. "What sort of business?"</p><p> </p><p>"Brooms. I make brooms. Er, the flying kind. Obviously."</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy's eyes widened while he took another note and Harry figured he had about fifteen minutes left before he called in a team of Mind Healers to cart him off to the loony bin.</p><p> </p><p>"Anything else?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry hesitated. "N-no, just the brooms for now..."</p><p> </p><p>"Are you looking for anything else in a home besides space for your work?" Malfoy elaborated slowly. Harry scowled and bit back a retort. How was he meant to answer questions properly if they weren't asked right in the first place?</p><p> </p><p>"No… Well, like what?"</p><p> </p><p>"Single bedroom? How many baths? Are you looking for something in the city, or - "</p><p> </p><p>"Oh! Just the one room. Bedroom, I mean. And the bathroom, I'll definitely need one of those. A separate bathroom, not one that's, like, behind a screen or something." Harry pursed his lips and tried to recall any other loo that didn't come with an actual door. By the look on Malfoy's face, a screened-off toilet was not the norm. "I like, er, not the city. I mean, I do like the city, but not to live in, I don't think. I like it looking..." he gestured to the window and its beautiful rolling hills, "open, I guess. I just don't want to look at the side of a shopping center, you know?"</p><p> </p><p>"A home with a view," Malfoy confirmed, taking note. He seemed to be avoiding Harry's gaze, but then suddenly lifted his eyes and pinned him with a searching look that had Harry squirming loudly in the leather chair.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," Harry said, swallowing with an audible gulp.</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy nodded slowly, seeming to arrive at some sort of decision. Harry hoped it was that any business was welcome business, even if it came from a crazy person. Which he was <em> not</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Let's talk price range, and then we can look at some options," Malfoy said amicably enough and Harry allowed himself to relax.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The Danny Days are long gone and Harry longs for a time when he was still in his captor's good graces. The man's patience has been worn thin after one too many escape attempts.</p><p> </p><p>In the Days of Denny, Harry hasn't yet broken his cursing habit. Again and again, he has his mouth violently washed out with soap until he's gagging and crying. He takes to rinsing his hands without soap, as the smell of it is enough to put him off his food.</p><p> </p><p>He hates it here. He hates Denny. He hates the stupid screen that shields the toilet from view but doesn't actually offer any privacy when the man wants to spend time with him.</p><p> </p><p>"It's not really sanitary, is it?" he asks one day over breakfast or lunch or dinner or whatever it is they are sharing at the little table in this room. Denny frowns at him. "Eating in the loo, I mean."</p><p> </p><p>Denny continues frowning at him, as if that's an answer.</p><p> </p><p>"I just took a massive shit and now we're supposed to - <em> no, wait!" </em> Denny hauls him up by his arm and drags him over to the sink. Harry kicks up a fight, already gagging, but Denny is easily twice his size. "No, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"</p><p> </p><p>"You use foul language, Daddy has to clean it up." </p><p> </p><p>Denny holds him, pinned against his chest, squirming and choking and screaming and retching, and Harry doesn't end up eating in his hated loo-room that day after all.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Blue are the feelings that live inside me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Harry takes the scenic route, discovers the meaning of thatch, and opens a door by closing one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW for self-inflicted (but non-disordered) food deprivation; auditory hallucinations; general mental instability. Also CW for briefly addressing the death of Astoria Greengrass (Scorpius's mother), but we're not going very far down that road.</p><p>Again, the flashbacks are in no particular order, but the bunker timeline goes Danny, Denny, Lenny, Ben, and Fin.</p><p>My eyes are crossing so I'll post this before my usual final proofread, and this whole story is unbeta-ed, so...enjoy some typos!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>Asper Den Farm<br/>
#6 Lynn Ln.<br/>
1 bed, 1 bath<br/>
650 sq ft Actual</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This quaint little bungalow farmhouse has as much character as it has land. On the expansive property, three large, disused asper coops are still primed and ready for a young entrepreneur's touch. The rich fields have a long history of growing superb magical herbs and the remains of a greenhouse could be rebuilt according to plan or even refurbished into a detached sunroom for additional living space. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Though London's rain was only a dreary mist in this area, Harry quickly managed to spot a large, muddy puddle and had himself a grand time while Malfoy watched him with that wide-eyed stare. Harry barked a true laugh that came from deep in his belly. He kept stomping right on down the trench, running his hand along the ancient wooden fence, until he came upon a brick house, with no windows.</p><p> </p><p>"No," he said, unbridled joy evaporating.</p><p> </p><p>"Not a fan of snakes?"</p><p> </p><p>"Snakes?"</p><p> </p><p>"The asper coops." Malfoy gestured to the imposing brick building and then at another one in the far distance, across several more lines of fences.</p><p> </p><p>"Asper coops?"</p><p> </p><p>"As we discussed, this is an old asper farm," Malfoy explained slowly. Harry's mouth formed a little "oh" shape. He had <em> just </em> read the plot description not even five minutes ago, after all, before Malfoy Side-Along Apparated him here. Before the puddles distracted him. "I thought you might use these coops to your advantage in your business. They could easily be refurbished as crafting shops."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, right... Aspers. Er, snakes." </p><p> </p><p>Harry could make out the likeness of a snake in the heavy iron door to the windowless building. He backed away carefully, keeping his mouth firmly shut while he stared at it. The last thing he needed was to start spewing Parseltongue while Draco Malfoy was still blissfully oblivious to his true identity.</p><p> </p><p>"They're long-gone," Malfoy said far too kindly, the twit, apparently under the impression that he had a dire phobia of snakes. </p><p> </p><p>As Malfoy went on about converting one of the large coops into a workshop for his brooms, and another for a proper showroom, Harry made his way back to the path, chagrined and covered in muck, and followed him to the little shack of a house not too far away.</p><p> </p><p>The inside of the house was...well, dank. Harry supposed that couldn't be helped out here in the barely-tamed wilds of wherever they were, in this drizzly weather. The surrounding trees - tall and spindly - cast much of the shack in shadow and Harry thought the idea of a sunroom would only make things just-this-side-of-bearable for whatever poor soul ended up here.</p><p> </p><p>" - and a nicely equipped kitchen, though by no means at its full potential. Do you cook, H-Haz?" Malfoy stumbled over his name and Harry smiled indulgently. Was it a pureblood thing, this battle to call him Haz instead of Blue? Inwardly, he both cringed and squirmed with glee at the thought of Malfoy discovering his more-and-also-less-strange client was Harry Potter.</p><p> </p><p>"Not so much anymore," he answered. "Toast, soup - whatever's easy." Sometime over the past decade or so, the memories of slaving over the hob at Privet Drive faded into a vague concept.</p><p> </p><p>"Anymore?" Malfoy asked conversationally. Harry didn't know how to have that conversation, so he just said,</p><p> </p><p>"Right. Where's the bedroom?"</p><p> </p><p>He had no intention of living here, but felt it would be a waste of Apparation to say that so soon.</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy nodded at a tiny little set of stairs that looked more like a ladder, which led to a loft.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It's fitting, Harry will later come to appreciate, that the Days of Fin are his last in the bunker: Fin. Finito. Finished with this bullwinkle.</p><p> </p><p>Today is like any other, or at least it starts this way, or at least Harry thinks it starts. He has no way of knowing what's morning or night. Fin has never maintained a regular schedule. Sometimes the tall, broad-chested ex-Military man is gone for days, sometimes he seems like he never leaves. Today, when Harry wakes, he is alone, as he has been for quite some time. He hoists himself up off the metal bed frame - having long forgiven the bed for his humiliation in the Lenny Days - and helps himself to the supply bin of food.</p><p> </p><p>Running hot tap water over the sealed package of a Strawberry Pop-Tart does wonders for improving the taste. Warm strawberry-adjacent flavored goo is far superior to bunker-temperature. This is as close as he gets to cooking, as the hob is trapped behind a locked door. In Fin's room. He's only been in that room once: his very first day down here, when he passed from the ladder-stairs to this prison cell.</p><p> </p><p>Through the heavy iron door, which has proven to be resistant to wandless unlocking charms, Harry hears the trap-door lift from the hidden entrance of the bunker. Bubotuber pus. Fin has returned. Sometimes Harry finds himself so desperate for company that he's tempted to actually snuggle up with the man during 'storytime.' Not that he has recently. It's been years (probably) since he last gave into his raw need for human contact. Now he shakes with the rage of eternity when Fin is near. Now there's hard ice in his chest, slicing at his heart, and in his darkest moments he reminds himself that he is capable of cold-blooded murder. That he is aching for it.</p><p> </p><p>"Harry?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry fumbles and drops the Pop-Tart in the sink, his heart skipping a beat before slamming his eyes shut. This is not the first time he's hallucinated, particularly after a long time without Fin's wretched company. He screws up his face against the deep, desperate voice calling his name, trapped behind the door and reality - because it's most definitely not real.</p><p> </p><p>"Harry?" </p><p> </p><p>The voice feels like a physical blow to his heart and he clenches the edge of the metal sink, willing it to fade or...or, keep going. He wonders who his addled brain has conjured this time. It doesn't sound familiar, which is brilliant, so brilliant. He's just decided this disembodied voice can stay when he hears furniture scrape across the concrete on the other side of his door.</p><p> </p><p>"Harry, are you down here?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Here..." he breathes, still clutching the sink. The tap is still running and there's steam rising out of it like a cauldron. "Here. I'm in here!" His own voice sounds fragile and broken. It's like in his dreams, when he's crying out for help but only air comes out. Which means this isn't real, and that's fine. He doesn't want reality anymore. He wants the voice to lead him into madness, never to return.</p><p> </p><p>Another scrape of furniture, then another. There are more voices, indistinct and still muffled. The other voices he's imagined over the past eternity are never muffled.</p><p> </p><p>Harry shoves away from the sink and flies to the door, pounding on it with abandon. A brittle wheezing sound reaches his ears - unmuffled - and dimly he realizes it's coming from himself.</p><p> </p><p>The lock clicks and the door opens inward, pushing Harry back. And it isn't Fin.</p><p> </p><p>Harry launches himself at the stranger, clutching his dark red robes and burying his face in his chest as he pushes against him with all his might. Out, out, he needs to get out!</p><p> </p><p>"LET ME OUT LET ME - oh gods, let - let me OUT, LET ME OUT!" his all-too-familiar plea is broken by crumbling sobs. The man's arms wrap around him and he smells like the outside world, like <em> air. </em> Throwing his weight forward with renewed strength, he clumsily forces the stunned man to walk backwards out of his prison, towards the trap-door.</p><p> </p><p>Unknown hands, strangers' hands that are so exquisite, so different from his own or Fin's, help haul him to the surface when his trembling legs threaten to give out on the steep ladder-stairs. He bangs his elbow on the trap-door, but doesn't feel it.</p><p> </p><p>In the pandemonium - strangers grappling him, voices shouting over each other, the meager light of a grim sky burning his eyes - he latches onto one discernible fact: It's day. Not night. The sun is obscured, but that's fine because <em> there's no roof over his head </em> and he can - oh Merlin's beard, he can feel <em> rain </em>, freezing cold, his clothes are already damp from it - </p><p> </p><p>Shoving away the hands that dragged him out of hell, he throws himself to the ground. The ground, not the floor. The ground. <em> The ground. </em> There's mud soaking through his jeans, wet grass between his fingers, and for the first time in fourteen years, he chokes down a breath of fresh air.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"What the fudge is this?"</p><p> </p><p>"Fudge, indeed," was all Malfoy said.</p><p> </p><p>Harry screwed up his face at what he was now certain was an outhouse. As in, a hole in a plank of wood over a hole in the ground that never flushed. Outside. For once, Harry was faced with something that might possibly be worse than a loo-bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Then again, he thought as he let the door of the outhouse creak shut, at least whoever used this would get to go outside first. Bully for whoever that might be, but it would certainly never be him.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you having me on?" he asked as Malfoy led him back up the walkway to the main road. He wasn't sure why they were walking away when surely Malfoy could just Apparate them from here, but he didn't mind the stroll.</p><p> </p><p>"Never," Malfoy said with a smirk.</p><p> </p><p>"I remember sarcasm, you know," he retorted.</p><p> </p><p>"...you <em> remember</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah."</p><p> </p><p>"Sarcasm."</p><p> </p><p>Harry waited a beat, then gave a firm nod. Malfoy was an odd duck. Then he blanched when it hit him that sarcasm was not something one would say they <em> remembered </em> unless they were recently returned from the dead or from studying orangutans by immersion.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well, pickles. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"You ever been smacked, Malfoy?" Harry shot back. The look on Malfoy's face was well worth this trip to the Dreary Poop Farm, but quick as a flash it morphed into something more playful.</p><p> </p><p>"Plenty," he said. "I daresay I've developed a taste for it by now."</p><p> </p><p>Harry squinted in confusion as Malfoy walked away, looking pleased with himself.</p><p> </p><p>Odd duck.</p><p> </p><p>"So," Harry said, scurrying over and hopping to land with two feet when he came up even on Malfoy. "What's next, Malfoy?"</p><p> </p><p>"Next, you return the favor and call me Draco."</p><p> </p><p>Harry grinned widely and M-- Draco checked his watch, a flash of regret in his eyes dimming the effect of his suddenly pink cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm afraid this is the end of my morning availability," he said. Harry cocked his head and then un-cocked it before Draco could catch him looking like a confused puppy. "Come back to the office same time tomorrow, I'll have another option for you to look at. Perhaps one with an <em> indoor </em> loo, Your Royal Highness?"</p><p> </p><p>"Okay!" he readily agreed. And then, before he processed what was happening, Draco tipped over in a deep, mocking bow, righted himself, and Apparated away. Harry blinked at the empty spot where Draco had just stood in the road, then looked both ways down the lane. </p><p> </p><p>Where...was he?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It isn't until three days - he can count them now - after his rescue that he learns his captor's actual name. But he finds it doesn't even matter. It doesn't matter. None of him matters to Harry anymore. He wonders how much of his curiosity over the years - trying to solve this mystery, to suss out any clues as to his identity, his history, his motivations - was survival and how much was just trying to fill the cruelly empty void.</p><p> </p><p>Fin is going to Azkaban, or wherever it is that squibs go after they steal wizard boy heroes. Harry wonders if, under the care of dementors, Fin might deal with his grief and admit that his actual son is long dead and never coming back. Or, is he already too far gone into madness for it to matter?</p><p> </p><p>It certainly doesn't matter to Harry, anymore. But he still wonders.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"What were we supposed to think when you didn't come home, Harry?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry shot a glare at a half-distraught, half-elated Sirius and then continued pacing the length of Ron and Hermione's shared office.</p><p> </p><p>"That I am an <em> adult </em> and I can take care of myself!" His voice cracked at the end, which was really poor timing. Just one more round of puberty potions, he reminded himself. He wanted to break something, but settled on picking up and throwing down the Daily Prophet again.</p><p> </p><p><em> POTTER VANISHES WITHOUT A TRACE! </em> the headline screamed, followed by a photo of Ron and Hermione in their auror robes speaking gravely to an entire pack of aurors. Harry counted himself lucky that he had yet to be papped since his escape from the bunker - he had the protective nature of the whole of Hogsmeade for this small mercy - or else his face would've ended up splashed across the front page and Malfoy would've read it and everything would be ruined!</p><p> </p><p>"We scheduled some private sessions with an Apparation instructor so this won't happen again," Hermione said as if that solved it all.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't want to Apparate!" he protested. He didn't know if that was true. He hadn't even considered learning or not learning, but agreeing to lessons now just felt like admitting they were right.</p><p> </p><p>"Then at least carry wizarding money so you can call the Knight Bus," Remus put in. Ron gestured between him and Hermione as if they held all the wisdom in the world.</p><p> </p><p>"I was gone for two days!" They were acting as if he hadn't killed Voldemort, escaped Death Eaters, and then survived <em> fourteen years </em> with a madman. Two days wandering the British countryside until he made it back to Hogsmeade was, quite literally, like a walk in the park. "I am an adult and I don't need you lot telling me what I can and can't do!"</p><p> </p><p>Sirius was standing in front of him now, shoulders curled in on himself in a humble, pleading way that didn't fit the man.</p><p> </p><p>"Please, Harry," he whispered, eyes shining bright with actual tears. Ron cleared his throat and Harry saw him turn away, and suddenly his friend's embarrassment became his own. If he wasn't humiliated before, when he finally came strolling through the door of Blupin Frottage covered in mud to find he'd induced a manhunt, he certainly was now.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius looked as though he was trying to keep himself from reaching out and taking Harry's hands in his own, and he stamped down his desire for the touch. He wouldn't like it. He never liked it, even when he wanted it.</p><p> </p><p>"Please, Harry, you don't know what it was like when you didn't come home - "</p><p> </p><p>Ice cut through his heart and he shoved Sirius in the chest, hard. The man nearly went down and Harry wondered when his godfather had become so <em> weak </em>.</p><p> </p><p>"No, <em> you </em> don't know," he hissed. "You don't know, you don't know, you don't know - "</p><p> </p><p>"Harry - " Hermione stepped closer and the room was too small, five paces across just like the bunker, and he couldn't breathe and everyone was staring at him and Sirius was <em> so weak </em> now and since when did Hermione want to be an auror anyway? None of them knew, none of them understood - </p><p> </p><p>"No! No, no, NO!" he screamed hard enough to tear his throat. He was yanking hard on his hair, desperate for a flash of pain to stand out amongst the rest of it. "I don't want this, I SAID <em>NO!"</em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry struggles to recall a time when Aunt Petunia reading Dudley a story to sleep was a point of jealousy for him. Ben is on his last nerve. Harry doesn't want to go to sleep, he just woke up, it's not his fault there's no clock in here!</p><p> </p><p>"There we are, Adam," Ben says warmly, toweling Harry's hair dry after another sponge-bath. </p><p> </p><p>He's all tucked in now, but not restrained, so Harry untucks himself and gets right back out of bed while Ben is putting the towel away. Harry throws himself down at the little table and snatches up a coloring book, but Ben steals the colored pencils away before he can reach them.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah-ah! It's bedtime, son," comes the gentle admonishment.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not tired." Ben smiles with such sickening love that Harry springs to his feet and hurls the book at his face. "I SAID NO!"</p><p> </p><p>Ben drops his disgusting smile and wraps his large hands around Harry's arms, hauling him back to bed. Harry squirms and jerks about, trying to free his elbows, which Ben has learned by now to hold back. He is held down by a single hand on his chest while Ben goes to cover him up again and Harry bends himself in half to kick him in the stomach. Ben hardly seems to feel it and Harry screams nonsensically.</p><p> </p><p>"No, Ben! No, I said NO! I'm not tired!" Harry manages to turn over on his stomach and tries to crawl out of the bed onto the floor again, but Ben just flips him on his back, catches both his wrists, and wrestles the blanket over him once more. "OFF! F-- BUMP OFF!" Harry screams, trying the move again.</p><p> </p><p>He actually manages to get his hands on the floor and then uses Ben's legs to drag himself the rest of the way off the mattress. When he bends over to pick him up again, Harry swings. A loud crunch tells him he's broken Ben's nose, and he scrambles away on his bum. Ben is clutching his nose, blood dripping down his chin, eyes tearing up. Harry uses the table to heave himself up just as Ben rushes forward. He gets in another punch or two before Ben grabs his arm in a bruising grip and swings him around towards the bed.</p><p> </p><p>Harry's head connects with the metal frame and everything goes black.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Kim, his Mind Healer, was kind and funny and far too wise for her age. She was hardly older than him, after all. He never felt like she was patronizing him. In fact, she was the only one nowadays who made him feel like he was...well, if not right, then at least capable of arriving at what was right.</p><p> </p><p>"You're rebuilding boundaries and you've suddenly been thrust into adulthood," she said now as they strolled through the massive, wild field behind Blupin Frottage. "This is going to be a deeply personal process, one that no one else can understand." <em> Personal </em> was probably a head shrink's codeword for <em> emotional</em>. Harry wasn't adverse to emotions, exactly, he was just tired of drowning in them at the drop of a hat….</p><p> </p><p>The forest was in the far distance and they were meandering in the general direction of the old silo, though they wouldn't reach it in their time together today. Much like this fantastical concept of recovery, the silo was always waiting for him in the far distance. It might as well not exist, for all Harry had been able to get there without some sort of interruption.</p><p> </p><p>"If they can't understand, then why can't they just shut up?" Harry grumbled. His hand grazed the tall grass and he pulled bits of it up as they strolled along, wrapping it around his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm your Mind Healer, not theirs." Harry cracked a small smile, then remembered Sirius.</p><p> </p><p>"He's just so <em> different </em> now," he said carefully. He didn't want to say it out loud. "I mean, he ate <em> rats </em> while on the run so he could be nearby for the Tournament. Never complained. Now he's...weepy."</p><p> </p><p>"Azkaban fudges with your head in a way that's hard for most to understand," Kim agreed. Harry bit his lip. 'For most.' What about him? He reckoned he had quite a bit of experience when he came to wrongful imprisonment, even madness.</p><p> </p><p>"I used to hallucinate," he offered speculatively. "In the bunker."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah? The mind does like to play tricks on us in solitary confinement. Do you still, sometimes?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry was silent, then, "Yeah." She didn't ask for details.</p><p> </p><p>"Humans are social creatures," she said, not for the first time. "It's not something we say for bits and giggles - " and Harry knew it wasn't bits, but rather shits, and he cracked another little smile at her insistence on playing along with his quirks, " - but pretty fast, without any input, the brain will start sending random signals. Firing off whatever it can to produce <em> something </em> to notice, to sense."</p><p> </p><p>"Bit scary, sometimes," was all he managed. And it was, sometimes. But not always. Sometimes he liked it.</p><p> </p><p>"And then we're thrust back into the world with others and it doesn't know how to cope, I think, with actual sensory input. It's blingin' stressful."</p><p> </p><p>"And blingin' stress is bad," he summed up from many previous sessions. She popped her thumbs up into finger-guns.</p><p> </p><p>"Got it in one."</p><p> </p><p>Only halfway to the silo, they turned around to head back to the cottage.</p><p> </p><p>"Does Sirius - er, hallucinate, do you think?"</p><p> </p><p>"Not his Mind Healer, pal," she reminded him, tucking a wildflower in his hair before tossing the stem in his face. He grinned sheepishly and patted the flower to secure it. </p><p> </p><p>"So, I guess I'll have to man up and ask him myself." He had no intention of doing that.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, 'man up'?!" she scowled, feigning - or perhaps not feigning - offense. "No <em> woman </em> could do such a thing! We're far too delicate."</p><p> </p><p>"Would you?"</p><p> </p><p>"What, shrink the head of Sirius Black? Can't be done, mate."</p><p> </p><p>Harry threw his head back and laughed, feeling as if he could fill the bright blue sky with it one of these days.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>His skull is mushy and he can feel his heartbeat up there. When he pokes a finger to the injury, he nearly passes out again. Ben is on the bed next to him when he comes to, long legs stretched out the length of the mattress with a storybook open on his lap. Harry's eyes go hot and blurry. He whimpers. A few tears leak out. He feels so small under the ache.</p><p> </p><p>When Ben's hand comes to rest on the back of Harry's head - on a non-mushy part - he doesn't pull away. He leans into the touch, then painstakingly shuffles closer until he can fit his head on the man's bony hip. Ben's hand hesitates, then carries on stroking his hair. More tears leak out without his permission, but he doesn't care. He blinks up at the storybook, but can't get the words to focus. He's not sure if that's because his glasses are missing or if it's got something to do with the pounding of his brain.</p><p> </p><p>Another whimper, more like a whine, and Ben starts to gently scratch his back. If he closes his eyes - and he does - he can pretend he isn't here. He can pretend it's really his father, or his godfather, or anyone else in the world except <em> him</em>. He's safe and loved - cherished for who he is. Harry. With his eyes closed, he can pretend it's the sort of love that doesn't leave him feeling ill, or used. The room keeps spinning, upsetting his balance even through his eyelids, but he keeps them shut.</p><p> </p><p>Ben reads him the story as he drifts away to a world he so fiercely wants to be in.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Scorpius was tagging along on their next outing, which was equal parts delightful and distressing. On one hand, Harry had no experience with children and anything new was cool as heck. On the other hand, he had no experience with children and he was terrified of this tiny, demanding, self-assured Draco clone.</p><p> </p><p>As the young boy spun in circles in Draco's office - arms flung out, little sneakers pristine and brightly colored - Draco pretended everything was normal. Granted, this probably <em> was </em> normal. Who was Harry to say otherwise? No experience with children, after all. Draco seemed to have forgiven Harry for blowing off their appointment a few days ago; he hadn't even asked why. Maybe it was normal to blow off appointments with real estate agents? He had no plans to do so again...he rather liked the man his old school rival had grown into. So now he carried enough gold for a trip on the Knight Bus.</p><p> </p><p>But he rather hoped Draco wouldn't just leave him behind again.</p><p> </p><p>"So, the asp farm was found wanting because…? And don't say loo," he added just as Harry opened his mouth. "Our carpentry wizards could easily fix something like that."</p><p> </p><p>"Fine, then it was too - er, dark," Harry landed on. Scorpius, still spinning, fell down, his head still rolling on his neck as the room no doubt spun around him.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, it <em> was </em> raining...or drizzling, at any rate. I reckon it'd be quite beautiful at sunrise, facing east as it does."</p><p> </p><p>Harry shook his head. "The trees were..." He gestured vaguely over his head. He didn't know what exactly was setting off alarm bells, but he knew it just wasn't right. Even on the clearest of days, those tall trees would cast dreadful shadows and block him in.</p><p> </p><p>Draco shrugged, as if this was a perfectly valid reason to turn down a home. "Let's see if we can find something with ample light, then..." He began flipping through several files, tossing the rejects carelessly into another pile.  "Have any other preferences occurred to you since our last meeting?"</p><p> </p><p>"Erm...it should be above ground."</p><p> </p><p>Draco stared at him. Harry shrugged. Charlie had talked about his community of cave-dwellings in Romania. It seemed relevant.</p><p> </p><p>"Did y'know they lost Harry Potter again?" Scorpius said, breaking the silence and starting up his spins again.</p><p> </p><p>Harry's mouth went dry.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, he turned up," Draco assured. He went back to examining his files.</p><p> </p><p>"Where was he this time?" Scorpius tripped over his feet and crashed into Harry's chair. Harry put his hands out to steady the boy but didn't quite make contact before he was off again.</p><p> </p><p>"Hmm…?" Draco looked decidedly uninterested, which was both a relief and an annoyance. "Ah, it was a false alarm, apparently. Aurors said he took the scenic route home, or something."</p><p> </p><p>"Sounds about right, for that one," Harry offered, and gods did he hope he was pulling off a casual tone. "The git can't go a few months without causing an international crisis."</p><p> </p><p>Draco snorted, prompting Scorpius to giggle, which led Draco to catch Harry's eye and smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, Prince Haz of Above Ground Windows without Trees - shall we explore this palace?"</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>Rose Roost<br/>
#10 Rosewood Dr<br/>
1 bed, 1.5 bath<br/>
1200 sq ft Actual</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You won't want to miss out on this handsome cottage atop a hill. A blooming garden envelops the house in bright colors and sultry aromas. Large antique paned windows afford plenty of sunlight indoors. The thatch roof -  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, <em> that's </em> thatch?" Harry scrunched his nose when he laid eyes on it. It was a dazzling property with all the flowers, the bright stone path, and the bold lines of the house itself. But, "How d'you hear the rain?"</p><p> </p><p>Draco heaved a sigh of great suffering, grabbed Harry and Scorpius both by the elbow, and Apparated back to M &amp; P Realty.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry was left to entertain Scorpius in the lobby while Draco rummaged about his office. At least, Harry thought he was meant to wait. Was their day finished…? Would Draco come back out and be surprised to find him still here? He shifted from foot to foot, only half-listening to Scorpius tell him all about Terry's time on the Slytherin Quidditch team - </p><p> </p><p>"I know you!" Harry declared suddenly as the pieces clicked into place. Terry Higgs raised a brow and Harry went on, careful to keep his own identity foggy. "You were Seeker, right? The year before Draco took over?"</p><p> </p><p>"What year did you graduate?" Terry asked, eyes narrowing. Harry tried to keep his answer light and casual.</p><p> </p><p>"Er, you probably didn't notice me. I had a few years to go by the time you left."</p><p> </p><p>"House?"</p><p> </p><p>"Thought I'd be a Hufflepuff, to be honest, but the Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin. Who was I to say no?" Harry felt a glimmer of pride. He had yet to tell a single lie!</p><p> </p><p>"And what do you do, Mr. Blue?" Terry asked, leaning forward over the receptionist counter, arms crossed.</p><p> </p><p>"Daddy says Haz makes brooms!" Scorpius chimed in and Harry cringed, but nodded. Terry looked intrigued and Harry took a chance. He always felt a bit like everyone was just humoring him about his brooms, encouraging him to have something - anything - to do. But Terry didn't know who he was.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, I, er… Well, a friend of mine, Luna Lovegood, or I guess she's a friend of a friend, actually the girlfriend of a friend - anyway, she's in the circus and I went to a show once - all the aerialists use standard racing brooms. So I did some research, made some prototypes, and now I'm, er…" He glanced up - Terry still seemed interested - and cleared his throat. "I'm working on my first paid commission now for a stunt broom, and a few more have put in their orders as well."</p><p> </p><p>"A stunt broom?" Terry frowned. "What's the difference?"</p><p> </p><p>Finally deciding that Terry, a former Quidditch player, wasn't feigning interest to be polite, Harry launched into a lengthy explanation. The paperbark tree was rubbery and spongy, an excellent option for stunts that were hard on both the broom and the body. The broom was heavier - both denser and thicker in girth - for better control, more momentum, all in all less effort for intense stunts. Speed wasn't so much a factor as stability, so the twigs could be thickly plaited with all sorts of potions and ribbons for special effects in a circus act.</p><p> </p><p>"You've thought of everything," Terry said, grinning widely.</p><p> </p><p>"Doubt that very much," Harry snorted, then added earnestly, "But, thank you. Do you fly much these days?"</p><p> </p><p>"Don't go sending my receptionist running away to the circus," Draco said as he re-entered the lobby. "The building would crumble without them."</p><p> </p><p>"You mean you and Pansy would crumble if either of you had to open shop at eight in the morning..." Terry quipped, winking. "I do miss flying, but I'm not cut out for circus life. My luck, they'd hire me as their bearded lady!"</p><p> </p><p>"There's an opening at Hogwarts," Harry blurted out. Draco furrowed his brow, but he didn't look upset with him for trying to poach his receptionist. "Hooch is retiring, or taking leave or something. You should apply. You were a brilliant flyer at Hogwarts!" When he - <em>they</em> weren't cobbing Harry, that was. Terry pursed his - <em> their </em> lips and nodded slowly. Harry was awarded with a wide grin from Terry and a mock scowl from Draco.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll look into it. Thank you, Mr. Blue," Terry tipped their head in a little bow.</p><p> </p><p>"Call me Haz."</p><p> </p><p>"I should think it's Goldilocks," Draco cut in. He held up a stack of files, eyes sparkling with defiance in the face of a challenge...perhaps a bit of madness, too. "At least until we find you the perfect fit."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry doesn't know why Ben is Ben or why he has to fight Ben, but every time he shows his stupid face, Harry has to pick a fight. And Ben always fudging wins in one way or another.</p><p> </p><p>But this battle, Harry thinks he's won. He won't eat his vegetables - he won't eat anything, in fact, that isn't a room-temperature cup of pudding steeped in sugar and preservatives. He will starve unless it's the pudding cup, and he <em> does </em> starve - for quite some time. He doesn't know how long, of course, just as he doesn't know how long Ben has been Ben instead of Lenny or how long he's been down here or even how old he is except that he is most definitely - probably - stuck at the front-end of puberty.</p><p> </p><p>Ben eventually relents when Harry passes out again and badly chips a tooth on his way down. Harry eats his pudding - it makes his stomach cramp up and his tooth ache ferociously - and then chucks the empty cup at Ben's face. Gods, he hates looking at him.</p><p> </p><p>"Why must you be so difficult, Adam?" Ben asks, sounding uncharacteristically bitter.</p><p> </p><p>"'cause you're ugly as sin, mate." It's not exactly true - Ben has a face that's starkly symmetrical, handsomely weather-beaten but riddled with frown lines - except Harry's tired down to his <em> bones </em> of seeing it.</p><p> </p><p>"That's rude." Ben frowns at him and the wrinkle between his brows deepens like a canyon in the desert, which Harry will never have the chance to see. "You've been quite recalcitrant lately, son... What's bothering you?"</p><p> </p><p>"YOUR FACE IS BOTHERING ME, BEN!" Harry roars, snatching his own glasses off his nose so hard he manages to draw blood. "I'm SICK of looking at it! I'm sick of looking at this room! I'm sick of--of--" </p><p> </p><p>In a fit of something much stronger than rage, Harry crunches his glasses in his fist and beats the remains against the wall. Slapping his palm flat and crushing the specs again and again, he wears himself out and slings the pieces at Ben.</p><p> </p><p>But Ben is already closing the door behind him as he retreats to the other side. And then the light - the only light source in the room, a stark bulb behind a protective metal cage above the door - goes out.</p><p> </p><p>His breath catches and then he falls apart in a whole new way. He's not sure if he's laughing or crying. He thought he'd won this one, but of course Ben has found a new key to unlocking his madness. He truly is sick of seeing the room, though, so the laughter wins over.</p><p> </p><p>For a while, at least. </p><p> </p><p>He's not sure how long it is before he swings the other way - </p><p> </p><p>Now he's screaming himself hoarse. </p><p> </p><p>And it's another long while after that that the light comes back on.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry soon lost track of exactly how many properties they checked out that morning. Some were an instant, hard no - turns out "ultra modern" is code for "concrete block" - while others were simply...not a yes. He couldn't pinpoint what felt wrong about them and only offered half-answers to Draco's probing questions.</p><p> </p><p>"I dunno, it just seems...cramped?" for the house in Kent, though the ocean view was tempting.</p><p> </p><p>"I just don't know what I'd do with all this space..." for the massive place that Scorpius seemed rather taken with.</p><p> </p><p>"Sure, it <em> looks </em> nice, but doesn't it just seem, well, cold?" for the admittedly attractive cottage built from brightly patterned, locally sourced stones.</p><p> </p><p>And so on, and so on, and so on, until Scorpius demanded lunch.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling guilty for the many failures of today, Harry was preparing to bid them goodbye once Draco Apparated them back to the office. But, ever full of surprises as this grown up Draco Malfoy was, he didn't seem put out and even extended an invitation to lunch in Diagon Alley. Harry readily agreed - he didn't think he answered too fast, but Terry was smirking so maybe he had - and gave Terry a parting wave as Draco dropped the files on their desk and led the way out the front door.</p><p> </p><p>Pageboy cap firmly pulled over his scar, Harry kept his head down in the Leaky while they waited on their to-go orders. He hadn't actually been in Diagon Alley since before fourth year - unless he counted the floo trip to Fred and George's little shop after hours for a grand tour of Sirius's investment. (And why Sirius thought it was amusing to invest in a rival joke shop was beyond anyone's guess, but Harry supposed that in itself was the joke.) Even then, he hadn't stepped foot outside.</p><p> </p><p>It was brilliant as ever, of course, but teeming with crowds in the late-August school shopping rush. Draco grabbed Scorpius's hand to keep him close, and to Harry's surprise and only slight horror, Scorpius took hold of Harry's hand as well.</p><p> </p><p>Florean Fortescue had always been a kindly man. Harry remembered fondly the days he spent doing homework outside the ice cream parlor and the man brought him free sundaes every hour. And today, as Harry paid for his order, Florean narrowed his eyes and quirked his head. </p><p> </p><p>His heart dropped into his stomach.</p><p> </p><p>"As I live and breathe," Florean whispered, eyes going wide. Draco hesitated and looked back at the exchange, catching Scorpius before he could wander back outside.</p><p> </p><p>Harry raised his brows and pursed his lips, looking at Florean pointedly. He shook his head minutely.</p><p> </p><p>"Never thought I'd see the day," Florean said, keeping his voice low but probably not low enough to keep Draco out of it. "Does my heart <em> good </em> to see you again, my boy." </p><p> </p><p>And it was spoken with such candor that Harry barely felt his heart skip a beat at the moniker. Harry offered a little smile, swallowed down all the feelings that were rushing to the surface - sorrow, serenity, panic - and nodded. He offered his payment again, praying for this to be over, but Florean closed the register with a wink. </p><p> </p><p>"Maybe next time, eh?" the man said. Harry couldn't help but grin as he pocketed his money. The exchange was over, Draco was no doubt curious but Harry Potter had stayed out of it, and the only handout he'd ever liked was Florean's ice cream sundaes.</p><p> </p><p>"Next time," he agreed.</p><p> </p><p>"Haz, you're friends with Florean Fortescue?" Scorpius asked awe-struck, tugging on his arm. Harry hesitated just a moment too long and Florean answered.</p><p> </p><p>"He's an old regular of mine, but I haven't seen him in a bit. Was beginning to think he'd found a new purveyor of ice cream!"</p><p> </p><p>"Not on my life," Harry said sincerely. The man was brilliant. Florean awarded him a roaring laugh, and they were free.</p><p> </p><p>He exhaled in a whoosh as he joined Draco and Scorpius at an outdoor table. Draco was eyeing him oddly as they ate dessert before lunch - anything goes in the above-ground world, apparently - but didn't ask.</p><p> </p><p>"So, Scorpius," Harry said, desperate for a change of subject. "I don't think I've met your mum. What does she do?"</p><p> </p><p>Draco froze. Scorpius crammed the last of his cone into his mouth and answered with ice cream dripping down his chin.</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing, she's dead," he said simply. And then he just went on licking his hand clean like Harry's world hadn't just tipped over on its side.</p><p> </p><p>"W-what - I'm - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - " he stammered. He was a right prat.</p><p> </p><p>"She died when I was a baby," Scorpius reassured. "I don't really miss her." And that was...gods, that was somehow worse.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm - Well, that's sort of a blessing and a curse, isn't it?" he said gently. "I lost my mum when I was a baby, too. But, I still miss her."</p><p> </p><p>"But how can you <em> really </em> miss her if you can't remember her?" Scorpius frowned at him.</p><p> </p><p>Harry shrugged. He was completely out of his element. "I don't know how, but I know I do. My heart misses her even if my brain can't remember." Draco was going to murder him.</p><p> </p><p>Scorpius considered his answer, looking far too serious for his age. Then he nodded firmly.</p><p> </p><p>"Mine does, too."</p><p> </p><p>"And mine," Draco added softly. "My heart and my brain. Also a blessing and a curse."</p><p> </p><p>Scorpius tucked into his lunch and Harry mouthed <em> Sorry </em> over his head at Draco. The corners of his lips twitched - not quite a smile, not entirely a grimace - and they tucked in as well.</p><p> </p><p>"What was her name?" Scorpius wasn't done, but it served Harry right for his own obtuse question.</p><p> </p><p>"Er - well, Mum, right? Isn't that what all mummies are called?"</p><p> </p><p>"If your name's Haz, she's got to have a good name. Haz's Mum..." Scorpius mulled it over in his head. "Hum!"</p><p> </p><p>"Hum? So, yours was...Scorpium?" He only just caught himself before he tried to guess Scorpius's mum's name was <em> Scum</em>. Yikes.</p><p> </p><p>Draco huffed a laugh. "Scorpimum."</p><p> </p><p>"I reckon our mums would've been friends like you and me," Scorpius decided. Harry smiled, touched, but then he furrowed his brow. Did Scorpius think Harry was closer in age to him than Draco? On the verge of a very slight panic, Harry glanced at the man, but Draco just shook his head fondly. Maybe this was normal kid stuff. </p><p> </p><p>Blimey, when had the world got so weird?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the time that bridges Danny and Denny, when Harry is just coming to terms with the fact that he is running out of options, his voice is too raw - from calling for help - to call his captor anything.</p><p> </p><p>He tries screaming into the tiny, solitary vent mounted up on the wall by the ceiling. It just goes into his captor's room, though. And he knows that, but he is still learning what sounds meant the man is "home" and what sounds are typical of the bunker's rudimentary mechanical systems. He's hoping, if he's loud enough, that his voice will carry through the room and up to the surface somehow. It doesn't. Even if it does, no one will be near the little clearing where the trap door is located.</p><p> </p><p>There are no electrical plugs on his end, nothing to pick apart and use to start a fire. Not much to burn, anyway, except some old storybooks, some meager bedding, and his food supply. That certainly wouldn't be enough smoke to filter through their shared vent and incapacitate the man - and what would be the point, with Harry still locked in on his side?</p><p> </p><p>He manages to flood his room once by pulling at the wrench-tightened pipes under the toilet until his palms bleed, but it isn't the deadly, time-to-leave-the-bunker type flood he's hoping for...more like a cold puddle to soak his socks. He could do more damage if he left the sink running.</p><p> </p><p>So he waits. He talks to Danny, and when the man disappears for his first long absence - around the time that he seems less like Danny and more like Denny - Harry starts talking to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, as he will learn in the Days of Denny, it's his mouth that gets him into trouble more often than not.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Oh - Harry?" Remus called up one evening after dinner. "I forgot to mention - you've a letter!"</p><p> </p><p>Harry poked his head over the bannister of the loft that looked over the sitting room. "Who...?" Only two owls were permitted anywhere near the wards - Ron and Hermione's owl Pig, and Ginny's owl Tig. Anyone who wanted to reach Remus and Sirius these days sent their owls to their workplaces.</p><p> </p><p>"The witch who runs the post office in Hogsmeade caught me on my walk," Remus elaborated as he waved a sealed piece of parchment. "Haz Blue? The Blue threw her off, but Sirius has called you Haz around the village enough that she figured it was yours." Harry crouched and reached his hand down through the rungs of the bannister, and Remus stood tall on his tip-toes to hand it off.</p><p> </p><p>He retreated to his bedroom - leaving the door open, as always, as if it didn't even exist - and read. As he read, his lips spread into a slow, wide smile that grew wider and wider until his cheeks hurt with the force of it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Haz, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Scorpius and I thoroughly enjoyed ourselves this morning. I write to offer my gratitude for the patience and directness with which you answered his probing questions. Scorpius's mother Astoria passed within a year of his birth and I have found myself at a loss when it comes to his grief. Surely it's there, but I don't want to build it up into something cruel. Your heart is a godsend. I know we'll be using that metaphor in the future as he grows up. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Don't fret over the search for your new home. Such serious matters take time and I'm pleased to have your trust. While you're certainly one of the more difficult ones to pin down in terms of preference, your company more than makes up for the trouble. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Now if you would be so kind as to tone down those unpalatable glasses of yours. Scorpius is determined to get a pair of his own and I will not allow a Malfoy's features to be ruined by common specs. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> My next open morning is Wednesday. Hope to see you then. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Draco </em>
</p><p> </p><p>"Got a date?" Sirius swung his weight around the doorframe dramatically and Harry startled, his cheeks flushing. Sirius grinned dopily at him, hanging from the doorframe at a 45-degree angle.</p><p> </p><p>"Shut it!" And he only barely thought to add, "It's not like that. He's my realty person."</p><p> </p><p>"Realtor."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, that." Harry was already re-reading the stiff, formal, <em>beautiful</em> letter, pleased as punch that he hadn't fudged up with Scorpius today. On the contrary, he'd done something well. Something helpful. Something <em> right</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"All's well - don't want you dating some pervert before you're done with your puberty potions." Sirius said it lightly, but his eyes didn't match his tone.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm starting the last round day after tomorrow," Harry said with a grimace. "Healer Wilkerson says I'm already of age, physically speaking."</p><p> </p><p>"And mentally?" Sirius looked as though he regretted saying it as soon as it was uttered, but it hung in the air regardless. Harry swallowed.</p><p> </p><p>"Is that how all of you see me?" He thought of Remus, pushing him to sign on at Hogwarts to keep him close; he thought of Ginny and Luna, blindly praising his first broom even though he knew now it was little more than polished rubbish; he thought of Ron and Hermione, going on to become aurors without him, with their sleek robes and wand-holsters and frown lines and the odd grey hair.</p><p> </p><p>"Noooo," Sirius breathed with a dismissive wave of his hand, but all Harry heard was <em> "Well..." </em></p><p> </p><p>Determined not to fly off the handle like a teenager would, Harry tried to be proactive and think of what Kim might say to him in their next session. She'd probably say he was being stupid by giving her the credit instead of recognizing that he'd learnt a thing or two about the human psyche in his life. Or she'd take all the credit and order herself a trophy.</p><p> </p><p>"In my fourth year, during the Triwizard Tournament..." Harry licked his lips. "Would you have had me running to some...some twenty-year-old for advice? Like, Percy?"</p><p> </p><p>Sirius wrinkled his nose and barely opened his mouth before Harry interrupted.</p><p> </p><p>"If you weren't mentally twenty-one after Azkaban, how can I still be fourteen in my head?" </p><p> </p><p>Sirius clenched his fists and settled himself on the floor, leaning against the open door to study him clinically. Harry joined him on the floor and slumped casually, openly, against the side of his bed. He rarely used it as intended - he was still kipping on the sitting room couch and enjoying the novel experience.</p><p> </p><p>"Right, so... I <em> do </em> know you're right," his godfather said, holding a finger up. He sounded strained. He tried to say more, but failed to produce anything besides a sort of growling-sigh.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you thinking of me as a kid because I act like one, or - or because you're my godfather and you're always kind-of supposed to?" Harry suggested. Ironically, he felt like a fraud to be having this discussion with his godfather, a proper adult (more or less), but the silence was answer enough. He waited him out. </p><p> </p><p>After an interminable silence, Sirius's eyes darted up to meet his.</p><p> </p><p>"A part of me will always see you as you were in nappies," he said, and Harry fully stopped breathing momentarily at the all-too-recent memories it conjured. "And even if you <em> were </em> still fourteen...mentally, or whatever... Shit, Harry, fourteen-year-old you bloody well <em> won </em> the Triwizard Tournament. Back against the wall, you still put Voldemort out of our misery. You've <em> never </em> been one to underestimate. And I swear to you, I won't."</p><p> </p><p>Harry stared at him skeptically.</p><p> </p><p>"But so much is still new to you, and I..." Sirius cleared his throat, looking like he'd rather eat his favorite arm before continuing this torturous conversation. "I get scared <em> because </em> I know you're definitely not fourteen anymore. You're an adult. You're going to - to pursue all of your wants and needs, and you <em> deserve </em> your - you deserve it all. Without my input. But, you weren't granted any experience."</p><p> </p><p>Harry opened his mouth to protest - he had plenty of <em> experience</em>, a lifetime of it that others couldn't even begin to grasp - but Sirius looked at him in such a pleading way that he fell silent. Begrudgingly, he listened.</p><p> </p><p>"Teenagers are supposed to learn the hard way," Sirius said in a voice that sounded...a bit dead. "They're supposed to get hurt while they're not alone. While we're here to put them back together again."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm not alone," Harry argued.</p><p> </p><p>"But you are if you - if we - " Sirius lost his way here and Harry knocked his glasses askew to press his palms against his eyes, unable to stand the off-course look on his godfather's face. He wasn't alone. He wasn't. And he liked his privacy, but figured a small invitation into his personal life would do Sirius a lot more good than it did Harry harm.</p><p> </p><p>"I do like him," Harry finally blurted out, ending the silence. "He invited me to lunch today after we looked at some houses..." He flicked his wrist to fling the letter to Sirius, who read it with a furrowed (and then raised) brow. </p><p> </p><p>Harry didn't know how authentic his feelings were for Draco - how much was just novelty and good posture and nice hair - but he knew there was <em> something </em> in their interactions that kept him yearning for more. Blinging heck, it hadn't even been a week - two, three meetings?! But gods, Scorpius was precious to him already, and Draco was...sardonic, and annoying, and facetious, and such a doting father - to an actual child, no less! - that Harry <em> needed </em> to uncover more.</p><p> </p><p>"Hmm, mhmm..." Sirius hummed, sounding far wiser than Harry had ever known him to be. He flicked the letter back at Harry's head, looking pensive and strangely pleased. "He invited you to lunch, you say? How about dinner at ours?"</p><p> </p><p>"How about no."</p><p> </p><p>"Ohhh, c'mon, I want to meet your 'realty person' - "</p><p> </p><p>"REMUS!" Harry shouted. "SIRIUS HAS FLEAS!"</p><p> </p><p>"You <em> bastard!" </em></p><p> </p><p>Harry fluttered his fingers in a parting wave as Sirius scampered from the room.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry couldn't catch a break.</p><p> </p><p>Ron and Hermione had laughed themselves half-sick Tuesday when they gathered at the Three Broomsticks.</p><p> </p><p>"So…. Malfoy?" Ron asked slyly not five minutes into dinner. There was a beat, and then he and Hermione were practically falling out of the booth.</p><p> </p><p>"He's still a wanker, he's just - "</p><p> </p><p>"Ohh Merlin's saggy left - "</p><p> </p><p>"Listen, he's still - I don't know - but he's fun, now," he protested weakly as they clung to each other, tears streaming down their red faces. He didn't think it was <em>that</em> funny.</p><p> </p><p>Wednesday, Draco and Scorpius seemed to sense some silliness in the air as well; they were both in a bright mood and the trio only checked one house before detouring through the city zoo. And later that day, of course, after Sirius and Remus asked why he smelled like fish and he told them about the penguin exhibit, those two gits spent the rest of the evening waddling around and kissing each other like penguins. Did penguins kiss? Harry had spent half the afternoon in that exhibit and still didn't know.</p><p> </p><p>And Kim, during their session Thursday, wasn't much better with her goofy leering and winking, which made Harry want to die, which made Kim want to talk seriously about...well, things he couldn't catch himself thinking about.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you masturbate?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry actually felt faint for a moment, like all his blood was rushing at once to his cheeks and ears, then his chest, then his fingers.</p><p> </p><p>"I - "</p><p> </p><p>Kim waited, but Harry couldn't even shake his head 'no.' They actually reached the silo across the field today, which told Harry that Kim wasn't going to let this one go. Sometimes she extended their sessions when there was something particularly troublesome to unravel. Harry reached out and placed his palm against the dark, weathered wood which was warping slightly against the curve of the wall. He craned his neck back to watch the silo seemingly disappear into the bright blue sky.</p><p> </p><p>They circled it, one walking clockwise and the other walking anti-clockwise. He caught his breath and focused on trailing his fingertips over the wall. He loved the feeling of wood, loved how it was rough and rugged at first but could be sanded down to velvet, and eventually - given enough time in the open air, in the elements - it would return to a gnarled, beaten, experienced state of being, like it had been as a tree.</p><p> </p><p>"No," he finally croaked out. He could hear her footsteps approaching from the other side as they reached the back of the silo. He wrapped his hands around each rusted iron rail of the mounted ladder, staring up, up, up, as Kim joined him.</p><p> </p><p>"It's perfectly natural," she said simply. Harry kept staring up, wondering if his trembling legs would calm or collapse if he tried to climb. "Puberty hits, hormones pick up, and us mammals like to diddle ourselves when the mood strikes."</p><p> </p><p>His knuckles went white and he hefted himself up on the first rung, but couldn't get his legs to keep going. So he rocked back, experimenting with tossing his weight forward and back, letting go and catching himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Does the mood ever strike you?" Kim asked.</p><p> </p><p>Harry threw himself forward and back, forward and back, waiting longer and longer each time before he caught himself on the back-swing. Finally, he answered,</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, sometimes."</p><p> </p><p>"And do you permit yourself a diddle?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry snorted despite himself. He didn't know if Kim was always this daffy or if it was played up for his benefit.</p><p> </p><p>"No, not usually."</p><p> </p><p>"Why not?"</p><p> </p><p>"S'not really decent, is it?" Staring straight ahead, he was captivated with the way the rungs of the ladder got bigger as he swung forward, then smaller as he fell away, then bigger, smaller….</p><p> </p><p>"What could be natural but deviant at the same time?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry frowned and gave it a thought, before shrugging noncommittally. </p><p> </p><p>"When was the last time you orgasmed, Harry?"</p><p> </p><p>He missed his catch and fell back too far, landing on his bum in the grass before he could get his uncooperative legs under him. Kim joined him, sitting with her back against the ladder and blocking him from his play.</p><p> </p><p>Harry flopped back on the grass and glared at the sky, and told her about Lenny.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>That night, for the first time in Blupin Frottage, Harry closed his bedroom door.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading and commenting (if you'd like to) - two more chapters!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I have a girl friend, and she is so blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry has too much to drink at a lesbian bar and spoils just about everything.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW for alcohol/intoxication and vomiting.</p><p>Apologies for the major delay in posting this. I was on a roll, but received some pretty shit family news. On the plus side, it gave me an excuse to go home for the first time in quarentimes and snag a pic of my neighbor's property, which is the inspiration for Harry's new home. The big reveal is in the next chapter, and I bet you can't guess what it is!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>October 1st, 2009</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The picnic was Ron's idea. The location was Harry's. The time - dawn - was Hermione's.</p><p> </p><p>Harry wriggled around on his bum with barely contained glee, his legs hanging over the edge. They were so high up, it almost felt like flying! No, even better - it was the closest he'd ever managed to recreate the feeling of escaping the bunker. The sort of blissful, pure, natural euphoria that only comes about once or twice in a lifetime, and he'd somehow found it again - and <em> here, </em> of all places!</p><p> </p><p>The top of the silo was flat, not curved like the proper one that was still in use by the Burrow. The uppermost part must have wasted away - there were still bits of it left on the rim, sticking up a few inches here and there - but the remaining surface wasn't nearly as warped by time and rainwater as he'd expected. Bit crumbly, but structurally sound.</p><p> </p><p>The wind beating against his eardrums was music, the early morning air smelled delicious, the pinkening clouds against dimmest blue of a fading night was unspeakably beautiful, and the chill of it all on his back and face and arms, ruffling up into his sleeves, was nothing short of rapture.</p><p> </p><p>Unbidden, thoughts of Hedwig came to mind. She would've loved a roost up here. He hoped that, whatever had happened to her, she had lived a long, full life without him. Perhaps she was still out there, somewhere. Maybe she'd find him one day, if he stayed out here, free of the anti-owl wards of Blupin Frottage.</p><p> </p><p>Wistful thinking had never gotten him anywhere, but stranger things had happened.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you always want to be an auror, Hermione?" he blurted out between bites of warm, buttery toast. Ron's head whipped up and Hermione stopped mid-sip of her coffee.</p><p> </p><p>"Well..." she started, taking great care in placing the mug to her side and nudging it here and there. "To be honest, no, it never occurred to me until..."</p><p> </p><p>Ron, still managing to be bleary with sleep, was giving him some sort of significant look, but Harry just turned his head, prompting her to continue.</p><p> </p><p>"When you disappeared," she sighed, and Harry's stomach didn't do that clenching-flip it usually did when that was mentioned. "You have to understand, there was so much going on, things didn't really settle into a proper, clear-headed search for - for ages, it seemed. Of course, they <em> were </em> looking," she amended quickly. "But the DMLE was distracted… Some of those Death Eaters were caught that very night, which was more luck than anything else."</p><p> </p><p>Ron snorted, and his voice was rough with sleep, while Harry had never felt so awake. "Not luck. Narcissa Malfoy turned her husband in the minute he came home in that mask."</p><p> </p><p>"She - ? Hold on - what?!"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," he nodded, looking just as incredulous. "When he got the summons, they had some row - she and Lucius Malfoy - about putting the family in danger again. Can't imagine <em> they'd </em> have anything to worry about, under his regime..."</p><p> </p><p>"You-Know-Who was a megalomaniac," Hermione said firmly. "No one was safe from him, even his followers."</p><p> </p><p>"Seemed like they were doing alright to me..."</p><p> </p><p>"So - so, Draco's <em> mum </em> turned his <em> dad </em> over to the aurors?"</p><p> </p><p>"Not even an hour after it all went down, yeah. Decent witch, I'll admit, even if she was doing it to protect herself..." Ron muttered that last part but Harry felt no less amazed. Proud, even. He didn't know much about Pureblood traditions, even less about old-money families, but he knew that a spouse turning on her partner like that was...not done. After all, Narcissa Malfoy had stood by her husband for Voldemort's first rise, hadn't she?</p><p> </p><p>"Draco didn't mention it to you?" Hermione asked delicately. Harry ruffled up his hair in the back and blinked up at the sky. It was beyond his comprehension how soft the pink fluffy clouds looked against hard streaks of white in the distance, all of it joining in a warm golden glow. The majesty of it stole his words, but he'd gladly give it everything he had in a steady worship that could carry him through the rest of his new life.</p><p> </p><p>"We - he's - it's complicated..."</p><p> </p><p>Ron tried very hard to choke back a laugh. Harry chose to ignore it.</p><p> </p><p>"He doesn't actually...know...that I'm <em> me </em>." The clouds were seemingly eye-level with him up here. His embarrassment would have to catch up to him on the ground, if he ever came down.</p><p> </p><p>They stared at him, and he stared at the sky. Gods, it was so touchable, so <em> deep </em> and unending. The sun was still stuck behind the mountains, but its power painted his whole world in more colors than he could put a name to. How could such a view exist while everyone just went about their lives with their heads down?</p><p> </p><p>"You're gonna need to explain that one, mate."</p><p> </p><p>Harry grunted, then sighed. "It's just… When we first met, I had my hat on, and he didn't recognize me. So, I told him - " He braced himself to keep from throwing Ron off the roof for the impending humiliation. "I told him my name was Haz Blue."</p><p> </p><p>To his credit, Ron did everything he could. He stopped breathing, his face turned tomato-red, and his eyes bugged out like marbles, but the laughter still came wheezing out. Harry strove to be the bigger man.</p><p> </p><p>"It's a good name," was his defense.</p><p> </p><p>"It's a <em> very </em> good name, Haz," Hermione assured him, shooting a glare at her suffering husband. "Are you...you <em> are </em> going to tell him though, right?"</p><p> </p><p>"Of course I am! I'm just - I'm waiting for the right time."</p><p> </p><p>"And when will that be?"</p><p> </p><p>"When I want to." Harry was very much <em> not </em> acting like a petulant child as he folded his arms and crossed his ankles, he just didn't want to get into this right now. "So, you - you became an auror...because of <em> me?" </em></p><p> </p><p>That did the trick to sober Ron up and Hermione went back to tracing the rim of her mug.</p><p> </p><p>"Well...it wasn't something I really thought I <em> could </em> do, to be honest with you." </p><p> </p><p>She studied her coffee and Harry watched her face carefully. She had changed so much since fourth year. She had grown into herself, was the best way he could describe it. Her hair was just as large but seemed less overwhelming and more suited to her round features; her brows didn't crowd her eyes anymore and instead leant an air of no-nonsense scrutiny. Her eyes were still big, warm, and bright with intelligence, just starting to crease at the edges. She was Hermione Granger, now more than ever, but he doubted her boggart was failing McGonagall's exam.</p><p> </p><p>"I always thought she'd go into something more brainy," Ron offered lightly. "Maybe an Unspeakable, with the way she's always going on about what-have-you… And we were both frustrated to hell with how the search was handled, but I didn't want to be any part of the aurors after I saw how incompetent they were. Hermione, now..."</p><p> </p><p>"I thought I could lend a clear head," she said, shaking her hair out of her face and leveling a steely gaze at Harry that made him feel like a bug under a microscope. It wasn't even eight in the morning yet, had the woman no sense of stay? "And if they didn't listen, I'd at least have Ministry resources at my disposal. Granted, I had my work cut out for me in the Academy - and emergency situations are <em> still </em> my weakness - " </p><p> </p><p>Harry bit his lip and thought of Hermione in first year, bemoaning the lack of wood to start a fire. </p><p> </p><p>"And I tend to - well, I have an emotional investment in my work, no matter the case, and I won't apologize for that!" she said fiercely, criminally harsh against the backdrop of fluffy pinks, golds, and blues. "But it <em> can </em> make things difficult."</p><p> </p><p>"For other people, more than you." Ron was all fond pride and Harry wondered how many bull-headed aurors and dim bureaucrats had fallen victim to Hermione's temper over the years, especially when it came to his case.</p><p> </p><p>"How exactly did you find me?" he asked softly. He'd never let himself linger on the details of his case or even his rescue for long. But he found the subject didn't make him quite so sick to think about what Ron and Hermione - his best friends, even after all of this - had to do with it.</p><p> </p><p>"Percy Weasley actually put it all into motion, if you can believe it," Hermione laughed. Harry frowned. It was only the second most ludicrous thing about this conversation. "He drafted some changes to the old regulations for hormone potions - aphrodisiacs, not gender tuners - and the specific potion that <em> you </em> were put on uses a love potion as a base."</p><p> </p><p>Harry blanched, and Ron was quick to assert, "It didn't have that effect though, right, Hermione?"</p><p> </p><p>"No, no, not at all! It was just a convenient base - hormone blockers and accelerators, when they're prepared properly, they're very expensive because they take months to make. But this was more like an instant-recipe, provided you could afford a basic love potion. Apparently it's tricky to add anything else to the potion regimen, even a Pepper-Up, not without severe interactions - so it's not a popular choice for people who actually <em> need </em> hormone potions."</p><p> </p><p>"So, Hermione here was on another case, sorting through the initial reports for that new law - real boring shite, mind you - when she stumbled upon...well, you."</p><p> </p><p>"Me?" Harry said weakly, mind reeling. Absently, he traced the rim of his own mug of tea, rubbing the pad of a finger over a chip in the lip.</p><p> </p><p>"A pattern that didn't make sense for the purchaser, who was already well past puberty, and supposedly childless for almost twenty years…" Hermione straightened up, tucking her ankles under her thighs. "He was acting rather shifty when we questioned him, and I - er, well, he <em> consented </em> - " Ron hummed delightedly, " - to a search of his cabin where we found your wand, and then obviously he was our number one suspect in your case."</p><p> </p><p>"Didn't take but a minute or two to authorize the truth serum."</p><p> </p><p>"We left him right there in the interrogation room, as soon as we had your location."</p><p> </p><p>Warmth beyond sunshine flooded Harry and he couldn't help the little smile that stole over his face. They'd never lost their urgency to find him - <em> him </em>, Harry, not just another case - and it healed some small part of him to see that. He was glad to have broached the usually-taboo subject. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as Kim had told him.</p><p> </p><p>Ron shook his head. "Still can't believe we were so close to you that day in the cabin… Just a few hundred meters out the back door and we'd've found you ourselves with a strong <em> homenum revelio</em>."</p><p> </p><p>"You did, though - find me, that is," Harry offered, peeking up from his tea and allowing that small smile to grow a bit.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, well," huffed Ron, then stretched in a grand, self-mocking way. "I reckon you've done enough hero work for one lifetime. Only took us a decade or so to return the favor."</p><p> </p><p>Hermione threw back the last of her coffee, looking far less pleased with their efforts than Harry was. One day, he hoped, he would find a way to show her how different fourteen years was from an eternity.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Lenny, the clingy berk, is gone for the foreseeable future and Harry is celebrating with tea and friends. He's a decent host - he pours for Hermione and she doesn't seem to mind that it's just hot water from the sink. Ron seems more interested in the Muggle Pop-Tarts than the tea and Harry tells him all he knows about preservatives and shelf life and - </p><p> </p><p>"Whatever, mate, just tell me how they get the frosting like this?" Ron would - <em> does</em>, because he's <em> here </em> - interrupt, peering suspiciously at the hard pink icing with sugar crystals stuck on top.</p><p> </p><p>Harry and Hermione share a look and mask their grins. For the moment, a balm soothes the deep ache in his heart. Merlin, he's missed these two.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>October 31st, 2009</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Sirius was full of shiitake mushrooms, and Harry would do well to remember that.</p><p> </p><p>He'd been training Harry to invite Draco out for drinks, but he hadn't considered (because Harry hadn't told him) that Draco only knew him as Haz Blue. So Hogsmeade, despite the locals' unwavering protectiveness of his privacy, was out of the question, since he was Harry to everyone there (except to Sirius, and now apparently the witch who ran the post office). And any wizarding place outside of Hogsmeade was ill-advised...he wouldn't try his luck with another Florean Fortescue situation.</p><p> </p><p>Which left Harry, who had next to no experience in the adult Muggle world, abruptly asking Draco Malfoy out to a London pub.</p><p> </p><p>"I need to drink," he said, but that wasn't quite right if Draco's sudden alarm was anything to go by. "<em>A </em> drink," he corrected. "I need <em> a </em> drink. Join me?" <em> Fudge! </em> One sentence in and he was an alcoholic, which couldn't be further from the truth. He hadn't had more than a glass of Sirius's Firewhisky since finishing his potions, and it'd taken him the better part of an hour to choke that down.</p><p> </p><p>He still couldn't Apparate, so when Draco went to take his arm in the lobby of his office, with Pansy Parkinson watching gleefully, Harry sort of...swayed away, and headed for the door.</p><p> </p><p>"It's London," he said, mimicking Sirius's nonchalance. "There's always a pub within a three-minute walk."</p><p> </p><p>Draco quirked a brow. "I'll wager the first round that it'll take at least <em> five </em> minutes."</p><p> </p><p>"You're on," he accepted the challenge automatically, just-about-completely-certain that 'the first round' meant their first two drinks and not something more mysterious.</p><p> </p><p>"Bundle up out there, you two!" Pansy called cheerily after them as they stepped out into the brisk October air. Harry wondered what nonsense Terry had told her before leaving for their new job at Hogwarts; Pansy looked like she'd been shopping at the same shop as the former receptionist - a shop that only sold the smuggest of looks. Draco shot her a rude gesture just as the door closed.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll be glad when we get a proper receptionist and she's banished back to her office with Greg and Vince..." Draco griped, and Harry nudged him with his shoulder for lack of anything to say. He hardly knew the witch and would end up with his foot in his mouth if he dared to agree.</p><p> </p><p>Six minutes later, Harry hauled Draco into the first pub they saw - but they would've made it in three minutes if Draco hadn't been dragging his feet, bemoaning the city streets soiling his precious loafers. The sign out front dubbed this establishment “The Bend &amp; Snap,” but just inside the door a chalkboard greeted them with: “Welcome to the Bend ‘n Snatch - Ask about our specials!” </p><p> </p><p>“Bit weird to misspell the name of your own pub,” Harry observed drily at Draco’s guffaw. “Maybe it was a new employee?” Draco glanced at him with wide eyes and tilted his head in a skeptical, <em> If you say so</em>, sort of way. Harry pushed through the entryway door into the dimly lit pub.</p><p> </p><p>The light fixtures hanging overhead were scarce and the illumination they provided under green glass shades was scant. A hippogriff of a jukebox stood proudly centered at the back wall, blaring something just this side of screeching that Sirius would love. The floor was dominated by a billiards table with worn, grease-stained felt, and booths with padded benches packed every inch of space along the sides.</p><p> </p><p>“Elegant choice,” Draco declared and Harry’s heart dropped. It was lively enough; the billiards table hosted a group of women around their age, and there were more full booths than empty ones. Harry darted a glance at the bar before dragging Draco over. “You’re - “ </p><p> </p><p>“ - buying the first round, yeah, yeah,” Harry finished, trying to appear less wrong-footed than he felt. He’d never bought drinks at a bar before. This one had leather padding nailed into the edge and he delighted in leaning his forearms against it like he was a <em> regular </em> or something. He wondered if the bartender would slide the drinks down the counter from the other end.</p><p> </p><p>The bartender wheeled up to him - literally, she was in a wheelchair! - and Harry was so taken aback, he completely forgot the order he’d practiced with Sirius. He stared dumbly across the counter, down at the nonplussed woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties, sporting deep black eyeliner, more ink than Sirius, and a sleeveless top riddled with what looked like...flecks of paint? Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail that resembled Ginny’s after a brutal game and she wore fingerless leather gloves.</p><p> </p><p>“Er….” he said intelligently, drawing it out for far too long.</p><p> </p><p>“What are your specials?” Draco stepped in.</p><p> </p><p>Harry was so relieved, he tuned out the spiel she rattled off. He slumped against the padded edge and tried to give Draco a grateful, lopsided grin, but he was clearly concentrating on the bartender’s words, which were just barely audible over the loud music. Harry watched, fascinated beyond reason, at the way Draco seemed to frown in concentration <em> and </em> smile politely at the same time, all while scanning the wide selection of hard liquors on the back shelves.</p><p> </p><p>He only just tore his gaze away when Draco finally put in their order and turned back to Harry, nodding for him to pay.</p><p> </p><p>That was the last of his consecutive memories for the night. From there, he was left with bits and pieces that sort of went together like puzzle pieces of the same general area of the puzzle, but which didn't quite fit.</p><p> </p><p>Draco's cheeks went pink at some point in the night and Harry <em> loved </em> it.</p><p> </p><p>Harry dropped some truly foul language - on purpose! - which made Draco laugh louder than he'd ever heard. Harry got the feeling he hadn't done it right - the swearing - but he didn't mind because he did it and didn't feel sick afterwards...on the contrary, he felt on top of the world! </p><p> </p><p>Their drinks were simply the <em> best</em>, and he let the bartender know it. He couldn't even feel the burn like Sirius's whiskey. He tried to watch her pour more drinks but got distracted by something, and then he was trying very hard to not spill on his way past the raucous billiards table.</p><p> </p><p>There was a row at the jukebox at some point and things got rather heated before a tiny woman with long silver hair broke it up and put on her song instead. Draco and Harry returned to their seats, content to at least both be losers if it meant the other didn't win. Since when did Draco Malfoy know anything about Muggle music anyway?</p><p> </p><p>They were outside again, but it wasn't nearly as cold as it was before, which was weird considering the sun had long since set.</p><p> </p><p>"Don'it 'sposed to get colder at night?" he wondered. Draco had an arm around his shoulders, slumping against him and making him go all tingly, and Harry had his arm around Draco's waist, which felt perfectly wrong. He couldn't say who was holding up whom, just that it was very warm and easy to laugh and easy to make <em> Draco </em> laugh, turning his cheeks even pinker.</p><p> </p><p>They managed to get lost on the way back to the street that hosted both the office and, more importantly, the Leaky Cauldron's floo. Or maybe they weren't lost...maybe Draco was simply fed up with stumbling around and scuffing up his dumb stupid poncy loafers. Somewhere between watching the streetlights pass through the window of a cab, as if in a trance, and waking up at Blupin Frottage, something happened that was decidedly less warm-and-fuzzy and more cold-sweat-and-fuzzy.</p><p> </p><p>There was a tunnel they drove through, he could recall that much. Orange lights on the concrete walls slowed until they were at a stand-still, underground. Harry's chest tightened and he couldn't breathe properly. Draco's voice was muffled, as if on the other side of that blasted iron door, and despite a constant stream of <em>I'm-fine-we're-okay-we'll-get-out-make-Kim-proud</em> in his head, he went clammy and dizzy and sick.</p><p> </p><p>He distinctly remembered pulling the door handle. Falling out of the cab was less clear, but he definitely hit his knees hard against the damp concrete ground before scrambling off through the tunnel. The ugly orange lights spun around him, someone was shouting, someone was grabbing him around the elbows and his own voice was hoarse and cracked as he screamed and his cheeks were wet and cold and he couldn't breathe - </p><p> </p><p>He remembered red and blue lights flashing, blinding him, and a hoard of strangers in reflective vests surrounded him. He knew he curled up into himself and cried for Draco, knew he couldn't stop shaking no matter how hard he tried - it was cold, he realized now, much colder than when they'd left the office, and he shivered violently against the concrete under his bum and against his back. The warmth from their drinks had long since faded and he thought he might've retched at some point but couldn't say when, where, or how.</p><p> </p><p>The lights were gone and it was eerily quiet, which would've been infinitely worse if it weren't for the expansive starry sky overhead. He let himself cry, then, figuring no one could properly see him in the dark. Draco helped him up some stairs and knocked, and then he was in Sirius's arms, face pressed against his chest, nose full of his scent and hands clutching his kimono-style house robe.</p><p> </p><p>He retched, and retched, then retched some more. Someone rubbed his back. Low voices conferred, but Draco wasn't among them. He let a few more tears slip out, and that was the end of it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He woke to a cold compress, a pot of ginger tea, and Sirius's furrowed brow. Harry avoided his eye and tried to quell the flood of shame that rose up as he sipped the tea. Remus brought him a potion once they deemed him able to keep it down, and he was left with only dread and humiliation in his stomach instead of cramps.</p><p> </p><p>"You wanna talk about it?" Sirius asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.</p><p> </p><p>Harry shook his head firmly. A spike of anger had him biting his tongue. Sirius reached out and Harry ducked away before he could do something tragic like <em> ruffle his hair. </em> He threw the covers off and made his way to the loo to shower, leaving his godfather to clean up the tea in merciless silence.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He's never been so ill in his life and he can't help but wish the bastard Ben would make an appearance. His whole body tenses up as he expels a weak foamy bile into the toilet. He can't seem to push hard enough, but there's nothing left to give. He hasn't eaten in ages, long before Ben fucked off to who knows where, and hasn't been able to keep more than a few sips of tap water down since he woke.</p><p> </p><p>It's agony, like Poseidon is waging war in his stomach. He's sore beyond reason and just wants it all to end. He collapses weakly against the toilet and wonders where he'll end up if this <em> is </em> his end... If Ben doesn't come back, if he's been hit by a car or gutted in an alley or gored by a great big stag with a striking resemblance to Prongs, Harry will just rot here, finally and thoroughly forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>At any rate, Harry prefers that to a homemade grave marker bearing the name Adam. So he shoves all desire for Ben to come back and tries to make his peace with Poseidon.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>November 3rd, 2009</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>After three miserable, brooding days and two vaguely probing letters from Draco, Harry decided to never speak of the night again, and if Draco couldn't handle that, then too bad. To be fair, Draco's letters struck a balance between concern and exasperation, and while there was no mention of Harry Potter, Harry couldn't bring himself to reply for fear of giving himself away.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently growing tired of the dramatics, Draco showed up at Blupin Frottage (uninvited) and escorted (kidnapped) him to their next real estate venture. (Sirius was all Smirky McSmirkface and Harry began to wonder how much of a fight his traitorous godfather put up against this home invasion.) Instead of their usual round of soon-to-be-rejected properties, however, Draco enlisted the <em> expert advice </em> of Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, like Hermione, had managed to grow into her look in such a fitting way that Harry had trouble recalling the pug-nosed girl from Hogwarts. They were all awkward, misformed teenagers back then, after all. And Harry was only just now coming into himself.</p><p> </p><p>And so he found himself, with his own just-barely-post-pubescent facial hair valiantly trying to fill in those patches, sitting cross-legged on a cushion while Draco's partner in real estate led him through a <em> guided meditation</em>.</p><p> </p><p>"Is this what you <em> do?" </em>Harry asked incredulously after a few minutes of trying not to think.</p><p> </p><p>"And we're acknowledging our thoughts but bidding them farewell for this moment," she answered, her monotone voice carrying a sharp edge of reprimand from her own cushion in the Muggle yoga parlor. Harry adjusted his position, trying to keep his back straight to help his chi flow or whatever. He couldn't help but think the cushions would be better suited as pillows and it'd be much easier to keep his posture if he were allowed to lie down - </p><p> </p><p>"Trust the process, Haz," Draco murmured from beside him. "She's a mad genius." Harry peeked over and saw him looking perfectly at ease in his smart Muggle clothes, long pale hands resting on his pointy knees as if the traffic outside was no trouble at all to ignore.</p><p> </p><p>"Mad is right..." he muttered under his breath, but resolved to try.</p><p> </p><p>"Conjure a space for yourself where you feel safe," Pansy continued after some time. "The temperature is just right. Maybe there's a fire going, or maybe it's all from the sunlight streaming through the windows..."</p><p> </p><p>Harry let himself find that temperature, and it indeed came from the sun. The space was indistinct but there was plenty of sun and the windows were huge and, lacking divided panes, practically invisible.</p><p> </p><p>"You're on a cushion on the floor of this space," she went on. "Find what that floor might be. Is it a luxurious carpet? Perhaps a rug on a hardwood floor? Or textured stone, or smooth tile?"</p><p> </p><p>His mind's eye found a warm yellow-pine floor with deep brown knots and streaks of grain. A plush rug appeared quite without his invitation, and he even spotted a stone hearth beginning to take shape right ahead of him.</p><p> </p><p>"The walls are solid and firm, stronger than any storm that might find you there. They're as tall as you'd like, and the windows fit snugly. Can you see if they're painted plaster, or stone, or something else?"</p><p> </p><p>They were that same gorgeous yellow-pine as the floor, whole logs now instead of planks, and Harry could almost smell the wood.</p><p> </p><p>"Some spaces have the most exquisite angles the higher you look," Pansy the mad genius said. "What's up there? What lights up your space when the sun goes down?"</p><p> </p><p>Sharp angles surged up into a peak, and a strong, thick beam of pine cut across the widest part. A humble chandelier hung overhead, three teardrop swoops of iron cradling several candles. But it was all nearly lost in the clear expanse of sky. Huge windows in the angled ceiling lit up the room spectacularly, like perfect rectangles of that singular blue that he adored so much.</p><p> </p><p>He was practically vibrating when Pansy brought them back into the yoga parlor. They set right to work sketching his space and her skilled hand quickly brought it out of his head for the others to see. Before he was quite finished admiring it, she snapped closed the sketchbook, bid them farewell, and traipsed away.</p><p> </p><p>"Now what?" he asked an entirely too-pleased Draco.</p><p> </p><p>"Now we wait for the other half of M &amp; P to make this dream a reality."</p><p> </p><p>"How?" Harry blinked.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you trust me, Haz?" he asked, suddenly solemn. </p><p> </p><p>Harry nodded, ignoring the flicker of guilt that came from the knowledge that, somehow, Draco hadn't seemed to piece together his true identity. Harry chose to think of it as a minor miracle rather than consider the idea that Draco <em>did</em> know...that he was just trying to wrap up this process as quickly as possible to get Harry Potter out of his hair. </p><p> </p><p>"Come back to the office to sign some forms for the funds," Draco continued. "Greg and Vince are top-rate carpenters. Your new home will be ready by the end of the month."</p><p> </p><p>Harry scrambled up and chased after the mysterious git who was already halfway out the door. "Wait! But, it's - ! Where - how - "</p><p> </p><p>"I've been doing some research while you were, ah...recovering." Harry flushed hotly. "I've found a suitable location, and what Pansy drew will work perfectly there. Come along - we've got some forms to go through and then you're treating me to lunch."</p><p> </p><p>Still reeling, Harry tried to imagine that special space in his mind's eye becoming a reality well before Christmas. It was beyond his wildest imagination - and he had quite the imagination - but he couldn't help the thought that Draco was keeping some vital information close to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>But, he did trust the man, so they signed the forms and went to lunch. The energy left fluttering in him from their meditation was dampened only by the knowledge that he couldn't bear to betray Draco's trust in <em> him </em> by confessing now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Haz Draco figured him out?? (get it?)</p><p>Thank you for all of your comments! I read and cherish every single one of them, and any suggestions you have definitely help to inspire me! One more chapter to go. I am so excited to reveal Harry's home, which is entirely inspired by my neighbor when I was growing up. I actually drove home recently and snagged a more up-to-date photo of it for this story (the last one I took is well over ten years old). Stay tuned!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Blue His House</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Blue comes home.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Blue His House</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Four days before Sunday's tentatively-scheduled unveiling, Harry was pacing his workshop and wringing his hands, which had proven to be useless for putting the finishing touches on Luna’s broom, which was meant to be done by now, which made him officially late on his very first commission, which meant his new business was a failure and he shouldn’t be blowing all his money on a stupid house he didn’t need -- </p><p> </p><p>“Alright, pup?” </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know when Sirius had let himself into the shop, didn’t even notice the burst of frigid air he brought with him.</p><p> </p><p>Harry shook his head once, meaning it to be an “I’m fine” sort of head-shake, instead of one that said, “I’m an idiot dumb failure who shouldn’t be allowed access to money or big decisions." Sirius didn’t say anything and took him gently by the arm, then corrected his grip to the shoulder after Harry flinched away. They stepped outside into the blustering early-December air. Harry automatically turned to his well-worn path towards the silo, but Sirius guided him the other way.</p><p> </p><p>“Not a chance I'm letting you brood up there like a pigeon - what say we grab a Butterbeer, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Kay,” Harry mumbled, still feeling like he ought to at least <em> try </em> to finish Luna’s broom. She was always so genuine with him, so affectionate and <em> weird </em>, in a way that he didn’t feel quite as burdened with his past when she was around.</p><p> </p><p>They spent the brisk walk not talking except to brush up on Harry's warming charms. Apparently it was more in the grip than the movement - it also helped when he forced himself to focus, shoving away all thoughts of abandoning his godfather for half-baked plots of independence. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It was a conspiracy, he insisted to Kim while they paced the perimeter of Hogsmeade.</p><p> </p><p>Remus wouldn't yield access to the floo or his owl; the post office witch pretended she suddenly didn't understand English, sending him off with a sweet and a wink; Ron and Hermione were talking up his new place as if they'd seen it already, going on about hosting Christmas there; even Luna and Ginny came over to keep him busy enough that he wouldn't <em> walk </em> to M &amp; P Realty and call the whole thing off.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius was behind it, obviously, and if Kim couldn't see that, then she was blinded with - with - </p><p> </p><p>"With what, exactly?"</p><p> </p><p>"With <em> lust!" </em> Ohhh bugger… Harry's cheeks heated enough to fog his glasses and he whipped them off, wiping them on his wool coat.</p><p> </p><p>It was true, anyway. His godfather was all devious smirks and sad, fond moments that reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley bidding her children farewell at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. In his darkest thoughts, which sprang up without warning to twist his muscles into knots, Harry wondered if he'd pushed Sirius too far over the months. Maybe he'd overheard his whinging about him to Kim. Maybe he was hurt by Harry's antics after the drinking incident. </p><p> </p><p>"Or maybe I'm just not interesting enough to keep around," he dared to say aloud, choosing to focus on the way his breath formed in the frigid air. </p><p> </p><p>"I can think of precious few people who might be more interesting than you, Haz," said Kim.</p><p> </p><p>"It's just - well, it's not like I'm a full person, am I?" She blinked. He winced and tried again. "I mean, I'm an adult, fine. But I spent half my life in a hole, and most of the rest of it in a cupboard… I - I'm just saying, maybe there isn't enough of me to make up what <em> should </em> be a - a proper twenty-nine-year-old wizard."</p><p> </p><p>He was a bore, and a burden, and worst of all, somehow still a stranger to his loved ones.</p><p> </p><p>But with an awful, sour cramp in his stomach, he discovered he was no longer a stranger to the press. As they pressed through yet another large, strangely excited crowd - this one near the post office, where he darted a half-hearted glare through the window in the direction of the apparently-only-deaf-to-him post-witch - a wizard pushed through the door. Time seemed to slow down and Harry's gaze landed on a copy of the Daily Prophet tucked under his arm. </p><p> </p><p>On the front page: a massive photo of Harry and Sirius, sipping Butterbeers.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Sirius was guarding the floo and Harry was hiding in his workshop, staring dejectedly at Luna's not-quite-right broom. He thought it could do with one more coat of stain over the bulk of it, but he'd already done the tail, so now he had to find a way to protect the finished twigs from the stain. There were far too many tricky charms layered into the tail for him to risk it. Perhaps he should just call it quits...but he was loath to deliver anything less than his best when Luna came round tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>He heard Sirius come in this time and rushed to look busy, knocking over the open pot of stain on the bench. He growled. He could do precisely <em> nothing </em> right.</p><p> </p><p>"Blimey buggering bollocks, can I just get a little time to myself?!" he snapped, dabbing the mess with a rag. "I <em> solemnly swear </em> I won't run off to Draco and Obliviate him..."</p><p> </p><p>"I should hope not," came a familiar voice that was definitely not his godfather's. A knee-jerk reaction sent Harry barreling under his worktable, climbing onto the one-inch-above-floor-level storage shelf and knocking tools and cans of stain aside to make room. <em> No. No, no, no no no no -  </em></p><p> </p><p>Footsteps approached tentatively and all too soon, Draco's legs appeared next to him where he crouched under the table like an oversized block of wood, which he might as well be with his useless brain. This was no steel bed bolted into the ground; he was still exposed, still within reach, and Draco had all the reason in the world to drag him back out.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he pleaded, a crack in his voice making him feel so much younger than he remembered being just moments ago. "I'm so, so sorry, please!"</p><p> </p><p>Draco crouched down, bracing himself with a hand on the table and peering at him in mild alarm.</p><p> </p><p>"Haz...?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry froze.</p><p> </p><p>"What on earth do you have to be sorry about, your hair?" Draco's mouth was curled in a teasing smile, but his striking grey eyes were worried. He reached out as if to knock the dust loose from his hair, but Harry flinched back and he retreated. "I have seen a bird's nest before yours, you know, I won't fall to pieces seeing you without your hat..."</p><p> </p><p>Harry let out a sort of whining hum of a false-laugh and Draco's smile disappeared, replaced by a grimace.</p><p> </p><p>"What's - ah," Draco bit his lip and seemed to reconsider whatever he was going to ask. "Are you looking for something under here?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry nodded. Agreeing seemed the right thing to do.</p><p> </p><p>"Right… Have you got it?"</p><p> </p><p>"Got what?"</p><p> </p><p>Draco shifted where he was crouching on his heels and gave him a bizarre look. "'Got wh--' Have you got whatever it is you're looking for?"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh." Harry licked his lips. "No." Sawdust coated his glasses, a heavy monkey wrench he didn't remember ever seeing before was clutched in his left hand while his right braced his weight against the nearest leg of the table.</p><p> </p><p>"...can I...help you? Look for it, I mean."</p><p> </p><p>"No."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh - do you need me to go, then?" Draco shifted back, preparing to depart. "Shall I get Sirius?"</p><p> </p><p>"No!"</p><p> </p><p>They remained unmoving in their respective positions, uncomfortable in so many ways.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry," Harry tried again. The fine layer of sawdust he'd disturbed was floating in the air between them, coating his throat and making it all that much harder to get the words out. "I'm <em> so </em> sorry, Draco, please..."</p><p> </p><p>Draco frowned at him rather dramatically, as if he'd started speaking Parseltongue, and then peeked over the edge of the table. Snatching up a couple of rags, he put them on the ground to rest his knees against. Harry couldn't imagine how woodstain could be better for his trousers than a dusty floor, but he wasn't about to correct him. Draco settled more comfortably on the ground just off of Harry's ledge, then met his eyes in a way that seemed utterly without pretence, but was still a mystery to him.</p><p> </p><p>"I can hardly forgive you if I don't know what you've done."</p><p> </p><p>Harry cringed and steeled himself, trying to square his shoulders as best he could in the cramped space.</p><p> </p><p>"You must have seen the <em> Prophet </em>by now," he grumbled miserably. "I lied to you, about - about everything - my name, and - and I'm - I didn't mean for it to go on for so long, but I just thought - " Bricks and mortar, why was this so difficult? He'd had nearly five months to think of a way to come clean!</p><p> </p><p>Draco looked perplexed and Harry wished he'd stop playing whatever game this was.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you mean that photo of you and Sirius yesterday?"</p><p> </p><p>Mouth dry, Harry nodded.</p><p> </p><p>"But..." Draco scrunched up his nose in a way that would've been endearing if Harry wasn't too busy bracing himself against the table to avoid being...hexed, or grabbed, or screamed at or something. "But I already knew all that."</p><p> </p><p>"What?" Harry croaked.</p><p> </p><p>Draco was looking at him much like everyone else did right after his rescue. Like he was loony.</p><p> </p><p>"How'd you think I knew how to get you home? Our date - ah, that is to say, our night out."</p><p> </p><p>"Date?" There was a dull roaring in his ears and he rather felt like he was living another person's life right now.</p><p> </p><p>"I - well, I thought of it as… And you said, then, you wanted to put it all behind us, all that rot in our past, and be - " Draco cleared his throat, cheeks pinking like they had that brilliant, stupid night in October. "I gathered you regretted it, at least in part, since you didn't want to talk about it anymore after the fact. But I thought we'd… I thought we'd at least put the past behind us." It was a statement, but sounded a bit like a question.</p><p> </p><p>"Behind us."</p><p> </p><p>"All our...shite back in school, and fourth year especially, and my dad..." Draco was looking ten times more uncomfortable than Harry, which he didn't think possible. "Y-you <em> do </em> know I don't subscribe to that nonsense anymore, right? I haven't for a long time... My mum helped me, and Astoria was a dream, she opened a whole new world for me, and I have a son now, so I - I intend to do better by him. Half my clients are Muggles, for fuck's sake!"</p><p> </p><p>Harry flinched instinctively, but Kim's voice was already telling him that this was misdirected aggression and he wasn't in any more danger than he was seconds ago. And then his gritty thoughts caught up to what he'd said.</p><p> </p><p>"You <em> knew?" </em>He gaped. Draco raised his brows. "You knew all this time and - and - you knew?"</p><p> </p><p>"...I feel like I've lost the plot... I'm not used to this feeling, I'm quite astute, I'll have you know, I - "</p><p> </p><p>"You knew my real name?"</p><p> </p><p>"What, Harry Potter?" Draco blinked and then explained, very slowly, "You...told me...that night at the bar. <em> Weeks </em> ago."</p><p> </p><p>"I told you…?"</p><p> </p><p>"That you had a confession to make, that your real name isn't Haz Blue - mind-blowing, that revelation - it's Harry Potter, but that you - " Draco cleared his throat again, going pinker, " - you like it better that I call you Haz. I thought it might be a...deadname situation, or something, to be honest."</p><p> </p><p>"I said that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Did you not mean it…? I suppose I can call you Harry, if you prefer." The way Draco's mouth twisted at his given name made it all too clear his thoughts on <em> that </em>.</p><p> </p><p>"No. No, call me Haz, I - I do like that." Harry took a deep, steadying breath. "What else did I say? What's a deadname?" he added belatedly.</p><p> </p><p>"It's - nevermind that, do you really not remember what you said?" Draco huffed, looking amused and offended all at once.</p><p> </p><p>"I remember being very, very drunk."</p><p> </p><p>"Too true… Well, Haz, I was - ahem, <em> lightly </em> teasing you, in a friendly-banter sort of way, mind you, about your, ah...peculiar collection of housing requirements that we've uncovered these past few months." Harry's cheeks burned. "I'll admit, the story behind your preferences caught me off guard, but it all made <em> sense… </em> .at least, as much sense as you were capable of making at the time. And I said that calling you by your - by <em> Harry </em>, felt wrong." </p><p> </p><p>Draco's perfect pink face scrunched in mock-disgust before he saw something in Harry's expression that prompted him to backtrack. </p><p> </p><p>"Not <em> wrong </em> , I meant it <em> is </em> still <em> you </em>, obviously, just…" Draco's shoulders rose while he searched uselessly for the right words. "This was easier when we were sloshed… Well. Regardless. We both agreed it was weird, at best, and you assured me that my calling you by your given name would only lead to me finally seeing what an annoying twat you are - as if I could forget," he said with a smirk. "You weren't particularly precise with your words, to be honest, but new beginnings and...and all that comes with it, is what I gathered."</p><p> </p><p>"I don't..." Harry tried in vain to knock the cobwebs out of his disjointed memories of that night, but nothing clear-cut came to mind that he hadn't already remembered and replayed in his head a thousand times. What spilled out of his mouth now was brand-new, for all he knew. "I don't want our history to muck up everything we've...got now," he finished lamely.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't want it to muck things up either," Draco agreed, and he broke into an uncharacteristic, nervous-looking grin. "At least not before I get to snog you."</p><p> </p><p>Harry's reeling thoughts came to a screeching halt, which meant the next thing he said was not his fault. "I've never snogged anyone before," he confessed. "I used to try it, sometimes, in - down there - in the - I used to practice snogging with my hand, like this!" </p><p> </p><p>He lifted his left hand, which was still holding the absurdly huge wrench, and only just remembered to drop it in his lap before bringing his closed fist to his lips and <em> demonstrating</em>. Of course, that's when his brain caught up to him and he reared back, mortified.</p><p> </p><p>"Nope," he decided. "Nope, no. Sorry. Sorry. <em> I would like that, </em> definitely, like, you have no idea… With <em> you </em> , I mean - your lips, obviously, not your hand - <em> argh!" </em> He managed to snap his mouth shut before the gods could mercifully snuff him out. He turned, dropping the wrench out of his lap with a loud <em> clunk! </em>, and began crawling out the other side of the worktable, away from Draco. He never should have been allowed to get himself into this mess, it was really all Sirius's fault - </p><p> </p><p>Draco suddenly appeared, crouching once more, this time on the other side where he was making his escape. Harry froze. Draco hesitated, touching his slender hand to Harry's scruffy jaw. He opened his mouth like he was about to speak but then leaned in close with his pink cheeks, and pinker lips. Draco closed his eyes and Harry did too. </p><p> </p><p>It was warm, and wet, and soft, and sweeter than the sugar crystals on a Pop-Tart.</p><p> </p><p>They pulled apart and Harry kept his eyes closed, unable to see what Draco was doing and therefore not sure if he was supposed to open them.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you like that?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry's eyes fluttered open of their own accord to find Draco watching him, mouth parted, eyes bright, brows slightly furrowed.</p><p> </p><p>Harry nodded dumbly. "Much better than my hand."</p><p> </p><p>"Please stop talking about your hand."</p><p> </p><p>"Jealous?"</p><p> </p><p>Draco smirked deviously and braced his forearms against the table, leaning into Harry's space once more.</p><p> </p><p>"DADDY!" All at once, a battle seemed to be waging against the door of his shop. Harry startled violently, cracking his head against the top of the table and sending a can of paint rolling across the shop.</p><p> </p><p>"French!" he swore, rubbing his head.</p><p> </p><p>"Scorpius!" Draco called out in reprimand, and Harry blinked up through a fresh haze of floating sawdust. The door swung open and he heard Scorpius stamp inside. Figuring he'd made as big an idiot of himself as he could handle today, he tried to surreptitiously extricate himself from his hiding place...only to succeed in falling rather spectacularly into the counter next to the table.</p><p> </p><p>"Oi!" He glared at Draco. "You could've caught me!" In fact, Draco had moved out of his way to avoid catching him.</p><p> </p><p>Draco shrugged a bit too helplessly, as if it were truly out of his hands. "You're filthy."</p><p> </p><p>Harry nearly tossed a handful of sawdust at Draco's fancy wool jacket, but only just stopped himself in time to notice that the rags had indeed left two swatches of sticky brown stain on his posh grey trousers. That was revenge enough.</p><p> </p><p>"Daddy, I made a snowbird!"</p><p> </p><p>"Scorpius, Haz and I were talking."</p><p> </p><p>Harry snorted and muttered, "Talking..."</p><p> </p><p>"Come look!" Scorpius ran over, all bundled up rather adorably in a puffy Muggle coat and a wool hat. He grabbed them both, one little mittened-hand for each of them, and pulled them outside into the snow.</p><p> </p><p>Blades of grass were still poking up through the layer of snow, but Scorpius had indeed managed a snowbird. Harry blinked and felt an entirely unexpected block of emotion hit him.</p><p> </p><p>"Hedwig..." he huffed, mouth parted in shock.</p><p> </p><p>"Who?" Draco looked between him and the knee-high snowy owl made out of actual snow. A couple brown pebbles from the garden for the eyes, some twigs stuck into the bottom for the feet, the wings were lopsided but the right size and shape... It - it was Hedwig!</p><p> </p><p>"Don't you like it?" Scorpius asked, watching him carefully.</p><p> </p><p>Harry knelt, swallowing hard and blinking harder. "It looks like an old friend of mine, you know. Her name was Hedwig."</p><p> </p><p>"Was? Oh... Is she gone?" Scorpius said, coming closer. Harry took a deep breath and tried to answer, but his voice caught in his throat. Stupid sawdust. He nodded and took little Scorpius by his mittens, squeezing encouragingly.</p><p> </p><p>"She was my very good friend," he managed emphatically. "She was with me at school and at home when, erm...well, having her company meant a lot to me when I was lonely, or scared. I've missed her. And, I think she would be quite jealous of this one!" He nodded at the snow bird and chuckled at the thought. She might very well peck the poor thing back to powder.</p><p> </p><p>"So you like it?" Scorpius whispered reverently.</p><p> </p><p>"I love it," he insisted, grinning widely and dropping his little hands with a final squeeze. "I may have to hire you one day to make my brooms just as beautiful!"</p><p> </p><p>"Really?!" Scorpius danced on his toes, eyes shining, cheeks rosy, looking so much like a happy childhood that Harry couldn't help but marvel. He stood, knees numb, and nearly jumped when Draco took his hand. They laced their fingers together in a perfect fit, snowflakes swirling around them as Scorpius pet 'Hedwig,' and, inexplicably, Harry felt...<em> excited </em> for Sunday's unveiling. He could do this, and he wasn't alone. He was ready.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Blue's Nest<br/>
#9 ½ Flint Ct.<br/>
1 bed, 1 bath<br/>
300 sq ft Muggle, 600 sq ft Actual</p><p> </p><p>Harry was blind and tramping awkwardly through a snowy, unkempt field. Long blades of grass brushed against his knees, coating his shins in cold wet, and he was well and truly sick of the pageantry.</p><p> </p><p>"Can I just - "</p><p> </p><p>"NO!" a chorus of voices - Draco, Pansy, Sirius, Remus, Ron, and Hermione - shouted him down, and he trudged on grumpily. He wouldn't have agreed to the blindness spell if he'd known how far they'd be walking. Draco led him by the hand and Harry was glad to be wearing gloves today, certain that his own palms were sweating. He was nervous. This was it. This would be his <em> home </em>. Away from Sirius and Remus. He was about to fly the coop and, as excited as he was three days ago, he was rather more than queasy about it now.</p><p> </p><p>Their caravan stopped and went strangely silent. Harry gripped Draco's hand tight, forgetting to breathe. </p><p> </p><p>"Are you ready, Haz?" he whispered, suddenly very close, his hot breath tickling Harry's ear. Harry lost his words and nodded. With a whispered finite, the spell lifted. Harry blinked and squinted against the brightness of the clear sky shining against the snowy field. A tall, familiar structure stood before them, and he gasped.</p><p> </p><p>It was his silo, with a log cabin on top.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>The silo had been refreshed nearly beyond recognition, but he knew it was his. The old, warped wood on the outside was now smooth and shining under so much dark stain; a single, impossibly long window spiraled up the whole thing like the red streak in a candy-cane; at the top, rested a cabin built from whole logs, with a tiny porch hanging over the edge, cutting into the sky itself.</p><p> </p><p>"....how…?" He stared up at it, mouth agape, struggling to wrap his head around what he was seeing.</p><p> </p><p>"Shall we go in?" Draco asked after a long moment in which Harry was utterly incapable of speech. He looked equal parts smug and scared. Harry nodded dumbly, and they closed the distance to the towering structure.</p><p> </p><p>There was a single broom - his Firebolt - hanging on a wall-mounted brass clip outside. Harry wondered if that was how he'd get to the top. Beyond that, it was hard to think. His butt was numb, he noted. It had been a long walk.</p><p> </p><p>The inside of the silo was as tall and cavernous as it was cozy. The walls inside must have been renovated as well, though he had no idea what it had looked like before. There were long, warm wood planks reaching up into the abyss overhead, and the long, spiraling window let in so much gorgeous light. Fresh new work-tables lined the walls, curving around the perimeter smoothly, and his tools hung neatly from brass pegs. A winding staircase made of shining, golden pine, started at his right and followed the path of the window, up, up... </p><p> </p><p>"My workshop…" he breathed, his chest swelling madly at the thought of spending his days here instead of Sirius's musty old shed. He could spend hours upon hours here and not get used to the way the sunlight was streaming in at that angle through the window. A carousel-stand in the middle held a few old prototypes of his broom designs and Harry tore off his gloves automatically, already itching to start a new project, if only just to <em> be here </em>.</p><p> </p><p>Sirius gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Didn't see how you'd improve on my old space, Malfoy, but I have to admit..."</p><p> </p><p>"Go on," Draco urged.</p><p> </p><p>"Damn," was all Sirius managed.</p><p> </p><p>"This isn't real," Harry blurted. He shook his head even as he wandered the space, touching every surface, taking it all in. "This isn't - Draco!" He turned on his heel to face the bastard who was looking more pleased with each passing second of Harry's awe. "This can't - how - this can't be <em> real," </em> he insisted.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Draco said, eyes sparkling. "My mistake. I've a friend in the Department of Mysteries, shall I call on him to investigate this pervasive illusion for us? Or shall we go upstairs?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry shoved past him and barreled up the stairs, near bursting with glee. He heard the others thundering up the stairs behind him but they were sturdy steps and didn't vibrate under the small stampede. At the very top was an ornate, gold trapdoor, which lifted automatically as he approached. He climbed the last few steps up into his new home.</p><p> </p><p>He froze in place and had to be pushed forward - none too gently - by Draco. The room was just as he imagined it in the yoga parler with Pansy, but so much <em> more </em> somehow.</p><p> </p><p>The floor was a gorgeous yellow knotted pine, shining with finish, and the walls were whole logs that he could touch and dig his fingernails into. A matching log pillar stood in the middle of the single, magically expanded room, with a kitchen area to his left and a living space to his right, and he spotted a small loo through a door straight ahead. The kitchen cupboards were the same gleaming pine, topped with sleek green-marble counters and a matching island with a breakfast ledge. A simple but pretty collection of glass orbs on iron spokes made up a chandelier over the island.</p><p> </p><p>The living space faced a magnificent stone fireplace that reminded him of Hogwarts - of the Gryffindor Common Room, in fact. He wondered if Pansy had paid a visit and filed that delightful thought away for a laugh later. There was a huge, deep green rug in the middle, and - the sofa from Blupin Frottage!</p><p> </p><p>"Is that - is that chair from the Burrow?" he asked incredulously. He darted over and sank into the familiar plush armchair he'd always loved.</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, mate," Ron said, grinning.</p><p> </p><p>"A bit of furniture from all of us," Hermione said with a nod at the bookcase on the far wall. "Neville did the greenery - " And only now did Harry notice the sheer number of plants around the space, soaking up all the sun coming through the windows overhead and on the walls. " - Ginny and Luna made that desk. " Which was a sweet gesture, if a bit crooked, he noted, gazing at the hand-made and brilliantly painted desk in the corner by the shelves.</p><p> </p><p>"Did you swipe the rug from Slytherin, or something?" he joked, peering over at Draco, who pursed his lips and didn't answer. Harry threw his head back and roared with laughter, his belly aching with the force of it.</p><p> </p><p>"We paid a brief visit to Hogwarts," Pansy piped up, her tone prickly and careful. "For inspiration. Not for thievery. Honestly, is your opinion of Slytherins really so low?"</p><p> </p><p>Out of the kindness of his very full heart, Harry decided not to point out that just because their visit was for inspiration, didn't preclude the possibility that they'd left the castle with more than that.</p><p> </p><p>"We could change the trimmings to blue instead of green, if you'd prefer?" Pansy added icily.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't you dare," he said, still choking back his glee.</p><p> </p><p>"If you'd like to see where you'll be sleeping," Draco cut in loudly, "I'll reveal the coup de gras…."</p><p> </p><p>Harry launched out his seat and joined Draco by the massive window on the eastern wall. There was a bundle of rope and fabric hanging from the window ledge, eye-level. Draco's hands - he'd removed his own gloves at some point - were trembling slightly and Harry gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Draco unclipped part of the bundle and stretched it out over to the pillar, clipping it into place there. Harry gaped at the hammock. It was beautiful - striped, aged canvas, smooth under his fingertips, with soft rope and tassels on either end. The blankets and pillow hadn't been visible when it was folded up, but it was all there, looking as cozy as a nest.</p><p> </p><p>"Well?" Draco asked softly. "Yay or nay?"</p><p> </p><p>Harry practically threw himself into the hammock, which swung wildly toward the window before swinging back into the room. Sun shone through the angled windows in the ceiling and he beamed at the brilliant blue sky overhead and at his side.</p><p> </p><p>"Yay..." he agreed simply as the hammock swung. He laughed as he caught Sirius's sparkling gaze. The faces of his family - smiling, albeit bemused - filled his space, his heart, and he slammed his eyes shut, too full of everything to take in anymore. The swing of the hammock was steady and brilliant. </p><p> </p><p>It was all just so...perfect.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Everyone had gone back to their respective homes and Harry was riding high on the fact that he was, in fact, home already. Only Draco remained, crammed into the hammock with him, and they swung gently, gazing at each and every dreamy view around them.</p><p> </p><p>"So, Mr. Blue, can M &amp; P Realty count on you for a good review?" Draco asked lightly. Harry turned onto his side and rested his chin on Draco's shoulder, inching close. Draco turned his head and met him halfway for a slow, sweet kiss.</p><p> </p><p>"I'll write you two, in fact," he answered cheekily.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh? For the workshop and the house?"</p><p> </p><p>"One as Haz Blue, and one as Harry Potter."</p><p> </p><p>"Spare me..." Draco rolled his eyes, pressing another kiss into his lips. "That Potter wouldn't know good taste if it bit him on the arse."</p><p> </p><p>"Prove it."</p><p> </p><p>Draco growled and rolled on top, apparently about to prove something very strange indeed, but miscalculated - the hammock dipped to the side, one or both of them squawked in panic, and they tumbled out onto the pine floor in a heap of blankets and limbs.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Three Weeks Later, Christmas Eve 2009</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry took the broom up to his porch instead of trudging up the stairs, feeling too full and sated. Christmas Eve dinner was an intimate affair at Blupin Frottage - just Sirius, Remus, Draco, and Scorpius - but his stomach was full and his eyes were itchy with sleep. Tomorrow, they would find out exactly how many Weasleys could fit in his little cabin.</p><p> </p><p>For now, he had nothing to do but light a low fire, climb into his warm nest of blankets, and watch the stars.</p><p> </p><p>When he woke on Christmas morning, the sunrise nearly within his reach, he found one guest had already arrived. She was perched on the window overhead, ruffling her aged but familiar feathers, pecking the glass and tilting her head.</p><p> </p><p>"Hedwig...?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you like it!! I was really excited to post so this has not been proof-read yet.</p><p>The house is entirely based on my childhood neighbor. (I actually went back home in October and snagged the photo for this story, since my only other pictures are at least ten years old.) My neighbor is Extra and he used a crane to place this cabin (which he built) on top of an old silo as a play-house for his little granddaughter. She's grown now, but we used to wave at her from her porch! I've never been inside, but I sort of don't want to...imagining the interior is so much more fun!!</p><p>If you've enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a comment. If you've already left a comment, please know that I've read it 100-billion times, I just suck at summoning the spoons to give you the response you so deserve. I'm notorious for replying months and months too late. So...you have that to look forward to, I guess!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tell me what you think, if you're so inclined!</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30716867">I'm Blue</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelly_spectrumm/pseuds/nelly_spectrumm">nelly_spectrumm</a>
    </li>
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